M-whY

The clock inside the station read 5:00am. I set my watch back an hour, then stood around with a dazed expression on my face. I figured I was at the bus station - that's how I got here afterall - and as further illustration as to how useless guidebooks can be, it wasn't included in the scope of their map. The tourist information booth wouldn't open for a few more hours, but fortunately, the ticket counters were still staffed.

"Warszawa Centralna? Warsaw Central?" I asked. I probably misinterpreted her response: I thoguht she told me to catch a connecting train from the platforms below. I wasted a full hour before asking someone else, who informed me I was already at the city's train station.

I went outside, and sure enough, there was the street I was looking for. I walked a few blocks in the dark, and spotted the Hostelling International sign. This particular place had an inconvenient lockout system; Guests weren't permitted to remain indoors during the day, and new arrivals couldn't check in until 4:00pm. Hauling my baggage to the alternatives was an unappealing prospect though, so I threw my things in storage and made a reservation.

Technically, I could've hung out there until 10:00am, except there was no common area, and without a place to sprawl out on, I headed out and began my day early. I walked down the Royal Route, considered the finest part of Warsaw, lined with churches and monuments of national heroes I didn't recognize. I passed the University of Warsaw entrance gates and the Presidential Palace, watching members of the Polish army march in front of the latter. The Polish army... heh heh heh...

Okay, so the Poland isn't known for her military prowess, and her military has been the butt of many a joke, but the people's resilience and ability to rebuild is remarkable. By the end of World War II, 90% of the Old Town had been burned down and destroyed, but reconstruction faithful to traditional designs have once again made it a thriving square. The early Baroque style of the Royal Castle, the imposing religious edifices, the picturesque tenement houses. I was here early, before any of the souvenir stands had set up shop. Just me, the mermaid, and some pigeons.

Past the Barbican, and I came across a name I was familiar with. Marie Curie, or as they remember her in Poland, Marie Sklodowska-Curie. Her museum was housed in the building she was born in; She spent 24 years in her native country before moving her studies abroad. In her lifetime, she made significant breakthroughs in the fields of radiology, nuclear physics, and cancer therapy, twice winning Nobel Prizes. Tragically, exposure to radiation gave her leukemia, from which she died of.

I had a kebab for lunch, then went to see the Chopin Family's Drawing Room. The famous composer, I learned, was also from this land; Like Curie, Frederic had a French surname, devoid of those consonant clusters that makes Polish such a difficult language to learn. Located in a rebuilt apartment building was a careful reconstruction based off a watercolor painting. The curator - I can't think of anything else to call the man sitting outside - gave me a brief description of the room's contents, which included a genuine piano that once belonged to another great, Franz Liszt. He then played a CD of some of Chopin's compositions while I sat.

"Chopin left Warsaw when he was 20, and died in France, but his heart is preserved in the Church of the Holy Cross next door," he said. "That is why we say his heart still belongs to Poland."

For the rest of the afternoon, I simply wandered about, resting in the many parks situated throughout. All in all, it was a good day; I saw some sights, I learned a bit, it didn't rain. Enough to make me smile, and no one even had to say "solar powered flashlight".

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