Both were really beautiful, although I was partial to Poznan a bit more. The picture taken above is from Wroclaw, where we spent our first night. After getting in, we had to park the car in a mall and walk around to find a hostel. It took a couple of tries, but after wandering around and asking the right people, we found an appropriate spot to camp out. The hostel was relatively empty, it was clean, and there was no curfew, so we found it to be a steal.
After the stress of driving and of hunting down a place to sleep, we all needed a drink. We tried a couple of local Polish beers at this sports bar, which was on the main city square. All the streets were made of cobble stone which gave it that stereotypical feeling of antique Europe everyone in the United States fantasizes about. We stumbled our way across them to the next bar in search of food, but after another failed attempt, we had more beer at this place.
With our increasing debauchery, we decided to take more risks. We ordered what Berliners call "Mexicaners," which are made with vodka, tomato juice and Tabasco a-la Bloody Mary in a shot glass. After a round of beer and a shot of those, we headed to the next place.
We made it to another bar we suspected might have food, but didn't. Instead of caring about getting our hunger satiated, we satisfied our need for alcohol with another round of beer. Now, believe me, on an empty stomach, I began to lose track of how much we were consuming. We could have had two rounds here for all I know. All I remember, though, is that, after dinner, we miraculously wound up here again.
Dinner was at this British pub that had Guiness scrawled across every inch of it. After ordering and inadvertently using the women's restroom, I had this nice sesame chicken dish that I don't really remember because it was overshadowed by a nice frothy pint of Guiness.
Needless to say, it was a sloppy night. I vaguely remember being asked to dance, taking two more shots, and throwing up in a urinal. At least, I think I therw up because there were splatters on my jeans and shoes the next morning.
The next morning, we went to this restaurant that determined the price you paid for the food by how much it weighed. That's right - priced per kilo. That should have been the first sign. I picked what I thought would be harmless food that looked Polish, and boy, was I ever sorry. Nothing tasted the way I expected it to taste, nor felt the way I thought it would feel. However, my embarrassment and discomfort with the food was quickly eased by the fact that neither Christoph nor Sascha enjoyed their meals, either.
Poznan was mostly about the museums and culture because of our debauchery the night before. We went to a Polish military museum and checked out all the heavy artillery, and I was pleased to find a tank with 415 scrawled across the side of it. SF represent!
The last really memorable thing about Poznan was a synagogue that had been converted into a swimming pool after World War II. Sadly, it had never been restored to a synagogue, and continues to be a place where Christian Polish children pee in the water. Yummo!
All in all, Poland was a mix of drunkenness and culture - a balance that I find myself strinking more and more each year, mostly with extremities. Next week, we're off to Spain! Hopefully, I strike that balance even better!
