1) Getting to Poland

 Part 1 of my diaries from my trip to Kraków. Read them in order!

 

My flight from Coventry to Katowice with Wizz Air was uneventful and the seats on the airbus A320 surprisingly comfortable, at least in comparison to those on the planes of other budget airlines I've flown with recently.

 

Upon arrival at the airport, I translated the Polish email confirming my booking for the coach from the airport to Kraków, with the aid of my not-so-pocket-sized dictionary, and found the location of my bus stop. Walking out of the airport it was about 15 yards directly ahead.

 

With 15 minutes to spare and a gentle rumble in my stomach, I wandered back into the airport building and found a small café. The selection of very fine looking and reasonably prices cakes drew me in and I eventually selected a jabłecznik (apple cake).

 

I knew everyone would speak English at the airport, but I wanted to practise speaking Polish as soon as I had the chance, so after rehearsing the sentence a couple of times under my breath, I ordered the cake and a small white coffee with sugar. I wasn't desperate for a coffee, but it was one of the phrases I'd been practising on the plane, and that was all I needed to save myself from having to actually decided what I wanted.

 

My order was understood rather more easily than the reply that came. Confessing in Polish to the lady at the café that I don't speak very much Polish - as though that wasn't patently obvious - I apologised and said that I didn't understand. She distilled her sentence into a single word, "Wszystko?” which I understood. In case I hadn't known what this meant, she added am emphatic gesture with both hands to show she meant, "Is that everything?” I replied affirmatively and she and her colleague set about fetching the cake and coffee.

 

When my refreshments arrived, I was not disappointed. I don't know if my perception of the cake as being so scrumptious was due in part to my being so hungry, but it was absolutely delicious. I was surprised at just how yummy it was, even though my expectations were high, having swooned after I'd merely spotted it on display. Paranoid that I was going to miss my bus, I gobbled the cake down in record speed and downed my small coffee, which was only a couple of shots in size but equally wonderful.

 

Arriving back at the bus stop with 10 minutes to spare, I spoke with the driver of the coach, which turned out to be a minibus. As he wasn't offering small white coffees with sugar, we less able to communicate in his native tongue and he gave no indication that he had any familiarity with mine. This time the "conversation" consisted of me explaining I didn't speak Polish very well and then nodding blindly to everything he said.

 

After my case had been placed in the back of the 14 seater Opel (Vauxhall), I stood and waited in the sunshine, noticing for the first time that it was a beautifully clear and sunny day. Looking up at the blue sky, the captain's announcement as we landed came back to me. Katowice had escaped the rain that been forecast, and at 22c it was a lovely day outside.

 

We waited 20 minutes past the bus' scheduled departure time before boarding it, and a further 5 minutes before actually leaving. I occupied myself by sending text messages to my family, announcing my safe arrival in Poland. As we set off, the driver put on a radio station that was playing classic, slightly cheesy house, but he kept it quite quiet. Chuntering on like and old lady for about two minutes, I couldn't tell whether he was addressing someone in the vehicle, or whether he was rapping along to the music.

 

It soon became apparent that the minibus driver had traded in his suspension for nitrous oxide injection. As we raced past every other vehicle on the road, I noticed I was the only passenger wearing a seatbelt. As the seat in front of me left so little room for my legs that my knees were almost around my ears, I thought that the seatbelt was perhaps a little redundant.

 

I did a bit of Polish revision, some on paper, and some from the conversation course I'd saved to my mp3 player. Wearing my recently acquired isolation earphones, I wasn't sure whether my replies to my mp3 player were audible to the passenger sitting in front of me. I was conscious that were I on some public transport and trying to sleep, which the fellow in front of me obviously was, I most certainly would not have appreciated it had a stranger started whispering in my ear with a strange accent, "May I take some photographs?... From which platform does the train to Kraków depart?... Where's the nearest bank?”

 

Having only got to bed at 4.30am after packing the night before, my tiredness started to catch up with me. Loosing concentration, I stopped my Polish revision and closed my eyes. I dozed for a while until I woke to the force of about 2.5 Gs throwing me forward as the driver braked suddenly at a red light. We were approaching Kraków centre. A couple of folk got out at different points long our way into the centre, apparently on request.

 

Seeing what I thought was the Planty, I almost asked a fellow passenger if I was right, but I was still somewhat nervous and didn't quite manage to muster enough courage. I was in fact correct, though I didn't know this until we reached what I recognised to be Wawel Castle to the south of the old town, the ancient seat of power in Poland until King Zygmund Vasa moved the capital to Warszawa (Warsaw) in 1609.

 

My excitement at our arrival gave way to unease and more than a bit of fear as we drove away from the centre and headed on to what looked like a large road that would take us back out of the Kraków and on to goodness knows where. Had I missed my stop? Was I supposed to yell when I wanted to get out? I didn't know, but I was hoping against hope that my fears were not justified. The minibus turned onto a bigger road that seemed to lead to the sliproad to a dual carriageway flyover that looked very much like a motorway and not at all like a road that was going to take me any nearer to my lovely, carefully researched, perfectly located and pre-booked hostel.

 

Just as I started to panic, we turned again and before I knew it, we were pulling up at a bus station. "Czy to jest Kraków Główny?" I asked the person closest to me. She confirmed that we were indeed at Kraków's main bus station - exactly where I was expecting to get off. Everyone clambered out and I was the last to disembark. Feeling relieved and silly at the same time, I started out on foot in what I believed to be the direction of the hostel. The first person I met quickly disabused me of the misguided notion that I was heading the right way and proceeded kindly to point me in another direction, which eventually proved to be equally incorrect. With the assistance of several passers by, I eventually made my way to Nathan's Villa hostel. Remembering not to "jay-walk", I crossed roads only with approval of an illuminated green man or at zebra crossings, as per the advice in my travel guide and on the FCO website.

More to follow...

Wizz Air. Cheap and cheerful!