Brunansky's Blog

The train was to depart Berlin Hbf (Berlin Central Station) around 1150AM. I arrived a bit earlier than what I had planned. That morning, I attempted to purchase a required seat reservation online. The app was having some technical issues. This meant I needed to purchase the seat at the ticket booth inside the station. I showered, dressed, and collected my things. Then, once all put together, the elevator took me downstairs to the lobby. Here, I was able to check out and walk across the street to the train station.

Once inside the station, I found my way to the ticket center. They required that I have a queue number based on what my current needs were. I told the lady at the counter that I simply needed to reserve a seat on the train heading to Warsaw. She gave me a queue number, and I waited on a couch in the lobby for that to be called.

Once my number was called, I promptly walked to the designated counter. There, the ticket lady spoke to me in German. My German, as discussed in the last blog entry, is basically non-existent. So, out popped Google Translate, and together, we concluded that there were no seats available on the Warsaw train.

Astonished, I looked at the lady and used Google Translate to see how I already had a ticket but couldn’t get a seat. The logic didn’t make sense. It made even less sense in Germany, where things were flowing logically and efficiently. How does one buy a ticket but is not able to get a seat? She said something in German while writing on a piece of paper she printed for me. Then, in broken English, she said, “Get on train. Show conductor. Upstairs to platform. Enjoy Warsaw.” I replied, “Danke.” She smiled and waved me off.

There was a grocery market in the station. Before heading up the stairs to the platform, I bought some water, a protein bar, and almonds. This felt like an acceptable travel breakfast. The water bottles fit snuggly into their compartments on my travel backpack. The protein bar was eaten immediately. The almonds were stored in a small pouch within my backpack for later.

The platform upstairs was filling up with travelers. It wasn’t long until the train arrived. Once the train pulled up, the doors slid open, and we all walked onto the train. My seat reservation didn’t exist. And so, with my ticket for travel, and whatever the ticket lady hand wrote on that sheet of paper, I made my way towards the food car.

As I made my way toward the food car, a lady working the train passed me by. She didn’t seem to concerned with my walking through the train. Since she didn’t stop me to check the piece of paper, I continued walking towards the food car.

Once within the food car, I found a table and sat down. The chef walked over, handed me a menu and said, “Dzień dobry.” This basically translates to “Good day.” I replied, “Dzień dobry. Kava czarne, dużo. Dziękuję.” Translated, I said, “Good day. A big, black coffee. Thank you.” He nodded his head and walked towards the counter at the far end of the car. This phrase I would repeat many times while in Warsaw.

Moments later, he returned with a cup of regular, hot, black coffee. It was a glass coffee mug. This surprised me. The thought was the glass would be thick paper or styrofoam. No, even on the train, there is a sense of elegance. Glass cups for coffee that sit atop a glass plate in the morning is standard.

The ride from Berlin to Warsaw took approximately five and one half hours. Again, this time spent on ground travel was not uncommon for me. The time spent enjoying the countryside was delightful. There was only one small moment of, “Huh, this is interesting.”

As the train careened across the countryside, I sat mostly alone. There were people who wandered into the car to order food and drinks. However, once finished, they left and returned to whatever seat they had reserved in a different car. That was until a couple of young travelers sat down at the same table as me.

The train from Amsterdam to Berlin found me wearing my headphones. The train ride from Berlin to Warsaw found me similarly seated. My headphones were over my ears for almost the entirety of the trip. The only time they were removed was for the chef, and for the train ticket man. Once they were both done talking with me, the headphones went back on. The music playing provided the soundtrack to the ride once more.

The young couple sitting across the table from me were upbeat. I have no idea what they were saying. My headphones are noise cancelling. It was like watching a silent movie. The thing I found peculiar, that raised suspicion, was the fact that other tables were open for two people. What reason did they have sitting across from me when they could have their own private table? I clearly was not looking for conversation. My headphones were on. Street smarts kicked in and I realized quickly this was a con job.

They ordered from the chef, and took some waters from the storage compartment above the table. They continued to talk, laugh and share whatever images were on their phones with each other. I continued to pay them little mind. The music playing in my headphones was enough for this morning. Plus, I wasn’t sure what their hustle would be.

It turned out to be a dine and dash hustle. The train was nearing it’s final stop in Warsaw. The young travelers got off the train one stop prior. As we neared the final stop, the chef and his waiter, were walking the car handing people their bills and collecting payment. He looked at their empty seats. Then, he said something to the waiter who left the food car. He handed me my bill for my coffee. I paid my bill and left the car once we arrived at Warsaw Central.

The con was simple. Either they dine and dash or they create the illusion we were all friends and I would be stuck with their bill. Since I was not speaking with them, or paying them much attention, it was painfully obvious we were not together. My street smarts saved me a few dollars. A few dollars was not a huge deal, but, more than that, it reinforced my gut feeling. I knew something was off with them. I was right.

The train station in Warsaw was busy. Thanks to my rudimentary understanding of the Polish language, I was able to find my way through the station with ease. I stopped at a coffee shop in the station. A coffee was ordered, and their WiFi was utilized with Google Maps to locate the next sleeping accomodations. Then, I walked out of the train station and began my stroll into Warsaw.

I climbed the stairs of the station to street level. There, I immediately saw the towering building, the Palace of Culture and Science. This building, an architechural symbol of downtown Warsaw, is easily identifiable. A broad base and tower that climbs straight up into the sky. The building itself has its own fascinating history.

The building was originally built by choice of then Communist leader Joseph Stallin. The story goes, it was forced on the Polish people and was used to serve as a statement of Communist propoganda. The glory of Communism found in the design and building of magnificent high rise building. A High rise that was one of the tallest in Europe, and the World. However, after the fall of Communism, and the freedom Poland found in the 1990’s, it has been repurposed.

While some would like to see it demolished and all traces of former Soviet authority imposed on the Polish removed, it remains. And it remains as a center for cinema, theater, museums, university studies, an observation deck and more. All the endeavours that foster freedom of thought, creativity and expression now fill a building that forbade such things under communist rule. A beautiful snub of the nose to former oppresion. I find the structure a remarkable site of freedom amidst the downtown skyline.

From the Palace of Culture and Science, it was a short walk to the hostel near Old Town Warsaw. The trip was a near straight line from that building to the hostel. There were, of course, a few turns. Mostly, it was a straight shot which was surprising. The train arrived around 530PM. I arrived at the hostel around dinner time, closer to 6PM.

The hostel in Warsaw had a few interesting rules. For example, there was a noise curfew. It was to be quiet after 10pm for guests to sleep well. Additionally, it was an alcohol free building. I would never have guessed to find an alcohol free building in Eastern Europe where beers and vodka are celebrated. Regardless, this place does actually exist in a town that has nightly group pub crawls that include free Polish vodka shots.

After discussing everything with the front desk attendant, she told me that my room was on the third floor. I collected my key and walked through the security door towards the elevator. The elevator, I discovered, does not exist. This building is stairs only. This meant, I’d be walking even more than anticipated. Once upstairs, I found my room, my bed and organized my things. Then, I made my way down to the second floor, where the restroom and showers were to prepare for my first night in Warsaw.

The restrooms and showers were found on the second floor, first floor, and ground level had a restroom in the lobby near the laundry service. The restrooms were unisex just like in Amsterdam. This meant at any given time, men and women were showering and using the restroom together. For most of the visitors, this didn’t seem to matter. We all just gave a wave hello or a headnod of acknowledgement.

There were locks on the doors to the toilets. There were locks on the doors to the showers. Each was set up like a stall. It was incredibly private for a community bathroom experience. If it ever got too steamy, windows opened completely to let fresh air into the sink and mirror stations. My time spent there was without issue.

The first night I walked next door to a hamburger restaurant. I ordered a burger and a beer. Then, in the cool evening air, I sat on the patio and watched as people walked up and down the street. I’d take a bite of dinner. I’d enjoy a sip of beer. People would come and go. I had made it to Europe. Now, I’ve made it into Eastern Europe, proper. It was a monumental feeling of achievement. Here I was, seated a restaurant in Eastern Europe (Warsaw, Poland), when in my youth this would probably not have been possible. Had it been possible, incredible steps would have been taken for an American to travel behind the Iron Curtain into the Eastern Block. This was such a remarkable feeling that I still cannot adequately describe it. Surreal is the closest thing I can use to even scratch the surface of emotions felt. How much the world has changed. In this particular case, for the better.

The first evening wasn’t filled with too much sightseeing. After dinner, I took a walk through some of the streets to get a feel for the city. Then, after a stop by a grocery market, I made my way back to the hostel and to bed I went.

The next day, I made my way downstairs to the showers and restroom. I cleaned up, went back upstairs to my room and then left to begin sightseeing. Warsaw, for the most part, opens up around times that I consider normal business hours. There was never a time in the morning where I wasn’t able to find a coffee shop open.

After finding some coffee, I found a bank nearby. There, I was able to complete a currency exchange. I discovered quite quickly that Warsaw doesn’t accept Euros as easily as Amsterdam and Berlin. Warsaw prefers Polish money. Polish money is called Złoty.  That translates to dollar. I also discovered the exchange rate from Euro to Złoty was about 5-1 at that time. So, all those Euros I still had from Amsterdam and Berlin were exchanged for Złotych which filled my wallet nicely.

Once I completed everything at the bank, I began my self guided walking tour of Warsaw. The time I spent on the first day stayed mostly on the street Nowy Świat, which translated means “New World.” This is the main drag of the city. It is a bustling strip of road that even closes for pedestrian traffic. The left and right sides of the road are filled with shops, restaurants, bars and more. It is a busy street that many local Polish enjoy.

It’s appropriately titled as Warsaw was almost completely destroyed in the second world war. This is not exaggeration or hyperbole. This is historical fact. The city of Warsaw was bombed by the Nazi’s with such force, the entire city was almost brought to ruin. The street name, and it’s place in the center of Polish life in Warsaw, stands as a testament to the fighting and enduring spirit of the Polish people. Here, they fought. Here, they lost. Here, they won. Here, they rebuilt their city from the ground up. Here, we can all celebrate with them their independance and freedom.

The time spent in Warsaw consisted of self guided tours, and actual guided tours. I spent time with the locals on buses and trains. I relaxed with them at bistros, a Golf Clubhouse, and bars. We talked, laughed and celebrated the women we have loved, do love and will love in the future. We smoked cigars. We talked Marvel, Star Wars and Disney. Politics and Religeon even came up in discussion. We drank together. We ate together. It was a fantastic time spent walking through churches, drinking along the Vistula river walk, relaxing in a strip club or two, and getting to know the Polish people and their modern customs of life.

A fascinating thing that I learned about Polands view on America is that it is simply, “America.” When asked, “Where are you from?” I replied, “Arizona, in America.” There were a few common replies. The most common, “Ah, America. Very nice.” Or “Is that near New York or California?” To which I’d reply, “A 5 hour drive to Disneyland in California.” This made all the sense in the world to them. No matter where in the world I’ve been, everyone knows that Disneyland is in California.

Occasionally, they would ask a follow up question. It typically sounded like, “What is Arizona like?” I would then ask them if they’ve ever seen a Western film with cowboys. This was particularly important. A Western didn’t make sense. A Western with cowboys made sense. They would say that they have seen “cowboy movies.” Then, I’d say, “That. That is Arizona.” Suddenly, the expression on their face would be one of illumination. It made sense. This American guy, travelling alone, is from a place with the cowboys. And off we could now go into conversation.

The tours that I was able to enjoy ranged from visiting the Unesco World Heritage Site of Old Warsaw, to travelling a bit South by bus to the Church & museum of Pope John Paul. He was Polish. He visited Arizona in the late 1980’s. When he was in Phoenix, my father worked the Secret Service detail to protect him. Here, in South Warsaw, I was able to walk through his new church, and the museum that was built to detail the story of his life.

The tour guide for the Warsaw walking tour was not Polish. He was actually from the Netherlands. However, he had been in Poland long enough that he felt compelled to give tours detailing the historical tales of Warsaw. He had a humorous delivery to his recounting of historical fact. It made the time spent walking through the city amusing and enjoyable.

The Golf Course I was able to enjoy was also not near the city center of Warsaw. It was a bit further North East of the city. The commute was lengthy. I had to take multiple buses and trains, plus a healthy walk to get there. By this point, I could have easily used the European burner phone I purchased to call a ride share. For now I had a number to use. However, that would have defeated the purpose of my time in Warsaw, which was to experience life with the locals.

And so, I made my way to the First Warsaw Country Club Golf Course. The historical signifance of this golf course cannot be understated. The communists were not fans of golf courses. To them, a golf course was a symbol of Western Capitalist life. This, they could not have in occupied Communist Poland, following the second world war. However, once the communists and socialists were kicked out of office in the 1990’s, the free people of Warsaw had this golf course built. It stands as a celebration and recognition of Polish freedom.

A friend of mine in Warsaw has a friend who is a photographer. She and I were e-mailing about her and I possibly collaborating on a photoshoot together at this golf course. I sent her the info, time of arrival, etc. Then, public transportation caused a delay. The bus that was supposed to take me from one stop, almost to the front of the golf course, drove right past me. I was standing in front of the bus stop, on the curb. The bus didn’t even slow down. It just rolled right past me. The next bus wouldn’t be there for an hour. An hour?! I couldn’t wait that long. That would put me over an hour late to meet up with the photographer. And so, I walked.

The walk took about an hour. I took the same road that the bus route would take. Then, I took a shortcut through some neighborhoods, through a field, jumped over a fence, and walked across the golf course until I made it to the pro shop and club house. I was only about ten minutes late to the scheduled time I sent her to meet. I asked the young lady working the bar at the club house if a young, 20 something, female photographer from Warsaw had arrived. She replied, no one by that description was waiting or had left recently.

This signaled that perhaps the tenative plans were cancelled. With extra cash in my wallet, because I had the cash ready to pay for our photoshoot, I decided to order some lunch and a few beers. The idea was, if she shows up late, because artsy people and time, I’d be there waiting for her, instead of her waiting for me. However, she never did show for that particular photoshoot, which was disappointing.

Then, after lunch, I chatted over a beer or two with the owner of the Country Club. He and I talked politics, cigars, and the difficulties of managing people. A man of direct conversation. He gave little time to saying more than necessary to convey his point. It was a pleasant, matter-of-fact, back and forth over drinks before I hit the course.

The golf course was incredibly challenging to play. For mutliple reasons, I struggled to get my swing. First, the walk to the course was long and I was tired. Second, I didn’t have my glove. Third, I was using rented clubs. Fourth, the holes are not measured in yards. So, I had no clue how far the hole was from the tee box. Other than that, the layout of the course was challenging in its own right. This was particularly exciting as I knew the next time I play here, I’ll shoot a much better game.

Once the game ended, I returned the clubs. I bought a few bottles of water. Then, left to find the bus that would take me south back into Warsaw city center. It wasn’t a long ride back. The buses and trains were all on time. I was back to the familiar part of town in less time than what it took to get to the course.

There were a few churches I was able to enjoy while I was there. Plus, I was able to venture a bit further off the path of tourist, into regular local life. The Vistula River walk was a delight. The restaurants and bars that line the waterway were charming, with great food and beers. It was here, one of the Polish girls I met recommended a vodka. I tried that along with beers. It was good. It wasn’t nearly as strong or potent as the vodka I would drink on Nowy Świat, but, Eastern Europeans know how to make a vodka. That’s just a fact.

One evening, a different Polish girl and I were talking. She was curious, as were so many Poles I talked with, why my first time in Europe was Warsaw and not Paris, or Italy or Greece? I explained to her my reasons and she smiled. She seemed pleased, and possibly flattered by my reply. We talked about my desire to experience as much of Warsaw as I was able to. She, without missing a beat, asked me if I had yet visited a strip club in Warsaw. I told her that I had not yet stopped by any strip clubs. She excitedly adjusted her body and asked if I wanted to go. She would take me, her hand now on my forearm. I agreed and she grabbed my arm and off we went to my first strip club in Poland.

Strip clubs in Poland are different than any strip club I’ve visited in America. American strip clubs have different rules regarding interactions with the girls. Warsaw was completely different. In America, the girls who are not dancing walk the floor and talk with the club goers. They can perform dances on their laps in their seats on the floor. No private room, or space necessary. However, in Warsaw, it’s very different.

A young, 20 something, Polish stripper came over to me and sat on my lap. She and I did the typical exchange of pleasantries in Polish, then I asked her if she spoke American english. She said she did and we carried on from there.

The young lady was able to answer my questions about strip club ettiquete while sitting on my lap, and holding my penis firmly within her hand. The girls who were dancers were all seated along a wall. There was a single stage for them to dance on. They danced provacatively and removed their tops revealing their breasts. Then, went back to their seats along the wall and put their tops back on. It was explained to me that the girls wait for a club goer to call them over. They don’t walk the floor. They wait to be called. Difference number one.

The second difference is that there is a formal procedure of sorts with the dancers. First, you call one girl or more over to you. They walk over and sit beside you, or on your lap. Then, you engage them in coversation over a drink that you buy them. If you enjoy the conversation over drinks, you can then take them into a private room. Difference number two.

I found the psuedo date like procedure fascinating. You have to enjoy the girl, not just her look, in a way. It’s like speed dating, almost. If you have no personality and cannot carry on a conversation with the club goers, you might make less money that night. You have to be able to talk, drink, dance and seduce. It’s no wonder Eastern European women make great spies. They have to be the full package of feminity, seduction and strength. What amazing women. I digress.

Once you and the dancer, or dancers, decide that you would like to take more time together in a private, intimate, area, you leave for the private rooms. There, the girls perform for you alone in whatever ways you decide before hand. And, judging from my experience alone, there really aren’t any rules except whatever you agree to with them before hand. It’s pretty… casual. Difference three and four.

The dancer who was brought to me immediately after I sat down was a ball of energy. She sat on my lap, laid on my lap, bounced off my lap and then threw her legs over my lap and hugged me. She was a delightful young woman. She and I joked around while she kept a firm grasp on my penis. She was pretty set on holding onto that for as long as possible. She called me her “American boyfriend” for the night. Then, she would call the other girls over for me to look over, she told them to show off for her American boyfriend. She was an absolute delight. We even cracked jokes about the possibility that perhaps we were both vampires and her biting me would be a welcomed treat. And, surprisingly, she knew how to dance. Such a fun girl, and such a fantastic night.

The girl I was speaking with at the bar disappeared shortly after we arrived. Perhaps she felt like she had done her part as a local welcoming a tourist into her town. Regardless of the time she spent there with me, it was an experience that I won’t forget. Her inviting me had everything to do with that positive evening.

The rest of the time in Warsaw was spent sightseeing. There really wasn’t much I didn’t see while walking the city. I even stumbled upon a historical site or two that I wasn’t familiar with in any of my pre-Europe research. The city is full of amazing sites. The Old Town, that alone, is worth visiting. It was completely rebuilt after the second World War. It almost felt unbelievable. Standing in the center of the square, looking around at buildings that look hundreds of years old, discovering were all rebuilt after the second World War. It was remarkable. I even found a small gourmet style restaurant within a city park.

This quant bistro style restaurant had a patio that had trees overhanging the area. This, along with the greenery of the park just outside the entrance gate and the cool breeze blowing through the area as the Vistula River was not far infront of my seat. It was absolutely a charming surprise.

As for cigars, I enjoyed three different venues. The first was the golf course. I enjoyed a single cigar there while golfing. The second was at a cigar shop not far from a local brewery that I revisited over my time there. The third was near the Vistula within a steakhouse. This caught me by surprise a bit. The entrance to the cigar lounge is within the restaurant itself. And, on this particular night, they had a jazz duo playing. It was a fantastic evening of music, conversation with other cigar smokers, drinks and smokes.

As for places I revisted over my time there, two come to mind. The first was a coffee shop on Nowy Świat each morning. There, I would sit, check e-mail, drink coffee, enjoy a morning breakfast pastry and chat with anyone nearby who desired so.

The second was a local brewery just off Nowy Świat. You had to walk through a corridor and past a few restaurants before you found it. But, there on the corner, sat the brewery. They had a rotating menu of craft beers. It should be noted that beers in Warsaw were not exspensive. I believe they averaged about $4 to $5 American dollars for about 22-24 ounces. The most expensive beer I had was about $12 American dollars and that was a smokey porter that sat around 11% abv. When I ordered it, the girls bartending asked me if I wanted a sample instead of spending all that money on a single beer. I tipped those girls generously before I left.

As for other bars, I met plenty of great folks. There was the bar that served only a cherry liquor. This place was busy. The cherry liquor was tasty. A few photo opportunities were taken.

Then, there was the bar that did karaoke. But, on the night I went, it was a trivia night in a language that was not English or Polish. I believe it was Ukrainain. One of the girls there was absoluetly captivating. She and I had immediate chemistry even through the language barrier. And there was also the bar across the street from the church that houses Frederick Chopins literal heart. That was a bit more macabe but still a fascinating evening of drinks with folks.

The last day in Warsaw was spent relaxing at a hotel not far from Chopin Airport. I was able to enjoy dinner, drinks and the company of a woman (despite the language barrier). It was, in all, a very relaxing time before the morning flight back to the United States.  Thankfully, the hotel had an airport shuttle which made the following mornings commute much easier.

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