One Door Closes, Another One Opens

They say nothing lasts forever. This is especially true of our $600 Canon camera which had a short lived existence of only 1 month before meeting a dark and lonely death. Fuck.

Julia has covered the food. The pictures really do the talking. The only thing I'll highlight is our sources of vitamins: pickles and cabbage. Those two vegetables are disproportionately responsible for our entire vegetable intake. Needless to say this lack of roughage but increased intake of cabbage has directly correlated with a decreased routine faecal output but an increased methane output.

Lately, Julia has been giving me a hard time because I've developed a fetish for doors. In my defence, the doors here are consistently grand and intricate. Im talking stop you in your tracks kind of doors. Harsh or fair? You decide:

                  

Other than the food and hospitality the one thing that has really stood out in Poland are the security guards. ON SEGUES. In their line of work, their right to use segues is tenuous at best. Arguably as tenuous as teachers claiming they need iPads to teach. Still, the hilarity of seeing a uniformed and stern security guard straddling a segue as everybody else saunters on around them is quite amusing indeed. 

You get the picture!

As much as travelling with your beloved is hard work at times, overwhelmingly it's outrageously fun. After a night out with Julia’s cousins where we had misplaced a 20 cent piece, Julia and I were casually walking along the following day. I was quite distracted as I felt like I had a pebble in my shoe. I interrupted Julia to tell her I had something in my shoe. Immediately her astonishment was obvious as she, dumbstruck, replies that she too feels like she has a coin in her shoe. Before I can correct her, she, quite outrageously, jumps to the left of field conclusion that her family have put coins in both of our shoes for good luck. Genuine hilarity ensued!!!!!

Ostensibly, backpacking around the world and not having to work seems like some form of utopia. In reality it's not. On a daily basis we are commonly faced with afflictions such as; where should we eat out for dinner, what time should we wake up in the morning, or the more pressing issue of 'should I get a piece of cake with my latte?' Recently however, we did face a serious problem. After routinely charging our camera battery overnight and heading off on another day of decision making and gluttony we arrived, some 3kms on foot, at our first ever Scandinavian produce market. Senses burning at the sheer intensity of; the slabs of glistening salmon, the naked poultry carcases with feathered heads still attached and the glowing Aryan demeanour of the people around us. Hastily I drew my camera out with cowboy precision. I steadied my grip, began to concentrate on my breathing; aim, shoot and...blank. We've left the freshly charged battery ruminating back at our hostel. Morning ruined, we sat down to freshly baked Swedish pastries and piping hot coffee dwelling over our misfortunes. #firstworldproblems. 

*We ventured back to retrieve our tardy battery.

Generally stitch ups are confined to friends and family. With girlfriends affording a certain amount of immunity. In the absence of both friends and family, Julia has copped her fair share of stitch ups recently. We were scheduled to have dinner at another family members house in the evening. Aunty Ula informed Julia and I to get ready. Julia changed into a dress and on seeing what Julia had chosen to wear Aunty Ula scolded her; highlighting the fact that it was evening and particularly cold outside. Aunty Ula demanded Julia choose something more appropriate but Julia chose to defy her. So we set off outside, Julia in her dress. Halfway into our journey on foot, I use my limited Polish to blatantly lie and tell Aunty Ula that Julia had complained of being too cold. Aunty Ula immediately turned around to Julia, berating her and unleashing some stern and scornful words. Julia, laughing at having been completely stitched up by her clever boyfriend, attempted to defend herself and diffuse the situation only for Aunty Ula to continue chastising her for her inappropriate attire. Meanwhile I struggle to contain my sheer joy at the well executed stitch up.

Food, Fun & Family: Fase 1

Julia's two cents:

10 days. Two lots of family. One hellova lotta food!

After making our way to Lodz (said 'Wooj') from Warsaw by train, we were met at the station by my Ciocia Ula and Vuyek Bogdan. Full with excitement after not seeing them for over 5 years, we squeezed ourselves, along with our bulging 20kg backpacks, into their 2-door Fiat. During the short car ride home I quickly realised that a 5 year hiatus from speaking Polish was going to be challenging. Nevertheless, before we knew it we arrived at Ciocia Ula's, which would become our home for the next 5 nights.

After being shown our room we were almost forceably seated around the dinner table and served a quintessential Polish meal; a steaming tray of freshly seared pierogi (dumplings), hand-made by Ciocia especially for our arrival. Filled with deliciously moist meat and accompanied by some salad and compote (warm fruit drink) our eyes and appetites were well and truly satisfied. We were already eagerly anticipating what was to come in the following meals! 

 Jay with Ciocia Ula and the home-made pierogi - 'Smacnego'!

And the next few days did not disappoint. A normal breakfast consisted of a cascading sea of open, Polish-style sandwiches (kanapki) which would include all sorts of tasty toppings: from pickles, ham and cottage cheese to cucumbers, tomatoes and eggs. 

 A delicious serving of kanapki for breakfast!

Abruptly in the middle of our first breakfast, my Vuyek announced that he was going to the supermarket. His return was arguably as quick as his departure, with him announcing that he had just purchased some ice cream if we would care for it. The fact that it was only 9:30am and just above zero degrees outside didn’t deter us as we merrily washed our kanapki down with it. Accustomed to muesli or toast for breakfast in Australia we surprised to be served a robust breakfast of cooked sausages (kielbasa) with onions another morning. Needless to say a fairly heavy but yummy way to kick of the day. 

 

Lunches are the main meal of the day in Poland, and are best described as genuine feasts! Often we visited relatives for the occasion too, which meant a sizeable increase in festivities and portion sizes. Add to this some alcohol and it really was a case great food and great company.

 A typically Polish soup, barscht (beetroot soup), served with home-made meat ravioli

We had a pretty wild time at the local Lodz supermarket, which is easily one of the coolest supermarkets we have been too! Think of your average, decently-sized Coles, multiply it by 4, and add in all sorts of European-Winter goodies that you can purchase; from ice-skates and toboggans, to freezers full of pierogi and barrels of live fish that the fish-seller catches freshly for you (yes that's actually true!). 

Rows upon rows of Vodka adorned the liquor isles, and alcohol was unbelievably cheap. 

Unfortunately our excitement got the better of us when we arrived at the sweets section. Picture this; pallets stacked high with various kinds of chocolates, biscuits and lollies. The top box wide-open for your intimate perusal or taste testing, tempting anybody to grab a handful. A taste-testing lovers paradise! Or so we thought. After sampling a number of these sweets and still coming to terms with how unbelievable awesome Polish supermarkets were, we heard a scolding voice from behind us and turned around to a very stern looking supermarket attendant wagging her finger at us for sampling the goods. After some confusion on our part, followed by a bout of profuse apologies, it became clear that the opened boxes of sweets were in fact for purchase and not for taste-testers like us. Whoopsie!

Having been a once booming textile industrial centre, this now less revered city of Poland was a wonderful place to properly start off our Euro travels and be reacquainted with family. The city was buzzing with plenty of personality and down-to-Earth charm. A big thankyou to all of my beautiful relatives and friends who fed, sheltered, educated and/or spent time with us – your generosity and hospitality made us feel right at home and we have left Lodz with plenty of wonderful memories! 

 Me and my cousins, Kasia & Kuba

More beer with cousin Norbert

BLOG 2. IS NEW. FOR YOU.

Let the food begin.

And the actual trip too. Not just aeroplanes and airports. Or aeroplane food - don’t get us started on that.

Bleary eyed after over 24 hours travel, we navigate ourselves from the airport to a very fun little cafe in down town Frankfurt, after tip toeing past the 'Occupy Frankfurt' protest so as not to disrupt their very important meetings. The lady working at the café is literally pulling a tray of fresh chocolate croissants from the oven as we walk in and announce in our equally fresh German accents, 'Guten Morgen.' We sit down to jug-a-latte (referring to the excessive serving size) and devour the fresh and piping hot croissants.

The perfect antidote to jet lag as we formulate a plan and head straight to the local kleinmarkethalle or Fruit and Veg market.

Bristling with excitement as our noses lead us through the market doors, we are immediately rewarded with an ambrosial array of cured meats. The sample trays are full and the locals are literally plucking handfuls of freshly cut salami and ham. Not wanting to offend any locals, we follow suit and take our own handfuls. Devouring them, our taste buds are tantalised by the, for us, previously unheralded sheer quality of what we just ate. Seriously good. Seriously fresh. Quality, quality meat. 

Again our noses lead the way and we end up at the nearby butchers shop where fresh and aptly named 'frankfurts' are being reeled in from their steamy estuaries. Feeling like a child on their first day of school we sit back and take in the process of acquiring the said frankfurt. Confidence restored, we march over to the counter, hurriedly motion to last customer before he weaves out of site and negotiate in broken English and German. Our toils are repaid as we walk away with smiles and a steaming hot piece of frankfurt, bread and more than enough mustard than our $1.50 belies.

And now onto Warsaw - the chic and historical capital of Poland. Or, if you were to pronounce it correctly 'Varshava'.

Despite being overwhelmed with excitement at the prospect of our first meal in Polska, our bodies are well and truly feeling the full effects of a hefty 10 hour time difference. Foolishly, we decide the best way to celebrate our first night in Poland is to visit a bustling beer hall and order a 1 litre stein along with our meat laden dinner.

Not known for his drinking prowess, but at the same time not wanting to forgo a challenge, Jay quickly realises his mistake as he struggles through the 1L stein. Meanwhile, I'm happily devouring the overflowing plates of hearty goulash and pierogi (Polish dumplings) that continue to taunt my lightweight boyfriend. I'm pleased to announce that Jay eventually conquers the stein – pride intact...but only just!

The next morning our body clocks promptly but annoyingly wake us up at 7am. Feeling like we’ve had double shots of espresso we forget the notion of going back to sleep and set off sightseeing around Warsaw. Strolling through cobbled streets - passing old ladies who are rugged up in thick fur coats, wearing woolly hats akin to road kill, and dolled up with pristine hair and make-up - we can't help but feel like we've stepped back in time. Grand and ornately designed buildings, churches and presidential palaces surround us – it's all a feast for our eyes!

After some serious walking, our stomachs alert us to the fact that it's time for a snack. We stop at the local supermarket, where we lash out and spend $3 on a quintessentially Polish snack; fresh Polish kielbasa (sausage) and a delicious rye bread roll. Smacnego!

The next day, after taking a wrong turn, we surprisingly stumble across an ice-skating rink!!! Without thinking twice about it, we fork out $2 each, strap on our skates and away we go. I’m to happy to boast that whilst I remain unscathed, Jay, on his final lap, becomes well acquainted with the cold hard ice, stacking unceremoniously. 

....and we're off!

We love flying. Well at least I do. A lot. I won't bore you with the particulars, but rest assured I really love it. On second thoughts let me indulge; 200 odd fellow travellers, shared bath rooms, minimal personal space and a resignation that, for the duration of the flight at least, its ok to invade the already minuscule amount of personal space. And don't get me started on airports. Unlike flying, we both love airports.

While waiting at the terminal in Melbourne, we were enjoying an extended and sustained period of people watching, however disregarding the usual stereotypes; the businessman, the Indian family, the wealthy retired couple and the fellow backpackers. In particular, one fellow traveller really grabbed my attention. The lady who was decked out, from head to toe, in leopard print clothing. I'm talking a hybrid pyjama/tracksuit style leopard print clothing. This begs the question: what really is suitable aeroplane attire? After receiving much counsel from family and friends I went for; jeans, my favourite pair of briefs, collared shirt and a sweater. Mrs Cheetah obviously received vastly different advice from her cohort and decided on the more seductive approach.

After arriving at KL airport for our connecting flight we made use of Starbucks' free wifi. Again this provided another excellent opportunity for some more people watching. But, unlike in Melbourne we took a more clandestine approach and did so from behind the comfort of our laptop screen. 'SMASH,' our change in tactic paid dividends as our ears alerted us to the events being played out directly behind us: an admirably muffin topped, high heel shod, skin-tight jean totting genuine Aussie bogan. With a great deal of disdain we swallow our pride at being Australian. 'Shaz', for arguments sake, is standing over a green puddle and bag of now smashed Midori glass and soaked cigarettes. To cut a long story short, she stupidly decides to pick up the bag of glass and cigarettes only for the remaining alcohol to pour out onto the floor. Her friend promptly tells her to rescue the cigarettes. She quips back, 'I can't - they’re duty free.' We begin to laugh, bordering on hysterics, imagining the lady attempting to board her flight, declaring her sticky duty free cigarettes and a bag of smashed glass. Goodluck getting that bag of glass shards onboard! Still sniggering, we watch as 'Shaz' walks off, drips in tow, no doubt looking forward to getting smashed at her next destination.

More food anecdotes to follow. We promise. Seriously.

And photos too.