6.3.07

i drove up north for mike bjork's wedding this weekend. i got there an hour or so early, so i sat in the lineless parking lot and nervously called people. guests trickled in, envelopes in hand. the first thing i saw on stepping in the doors (felt like falling into an ocean) was the lanky, suited form of justin hayes. then mike, there with his anxious-face on, the tightest hug i've had in awhile.

i spent the rest of the event having easy, dry-wit talk with justin and john walshe, eyeing josh burrill's bleached blonde hair, and watching mike vibrate with happiness across the room.

krakow

breakfast in the hostel, nutella on simple bread with too-hot tea. looking at maps, discussing whether or not to tour the salt mines. postponing the decision and pointing ourselves towards the castle instead, taking photos of churches on the way. we matched letters on streetsigns to letters on the map, stepping carefully on cobblestones. i did what i always do: walked like a native.

we climbed the hill up to the castle, got accosted by a tour guide with questionable english, and were thwarted in our visit to the dragon's den. closed 'til april. we looked at things high and low, in the cathedral, in the belltower, and in the crypts. we left the belltower because of my anxiety and the crypts because of niki's. good compromising.

jarring architectures, polish easter cards in the gift shop. winding back down the hill to the city, looking at restaurant menus with an ever-vigilant eye to dinner.

then, the cathedral in the main square. unwittingly standing in front of a "no cameras" sign, niki accidentally took a picture of a relic under the disapproving glare of a priest. stress ensued. cobalt and deep reds, gold gilding and painted stars, bones of saints and skulls carved everywhere. religion executed with glorious abandon. we tried to keep our bootheels from making too much noise as people worshipped.

purchases at the cloth hall: a bracelet for annie, wooden easter eggs in all the right colors, amber earrings for emily. later, at a proper jewelry store, i bought myself a strand of the best amber i'd seen (and would see). it was, and continues to be, perfectly spectacular.

at some point we ate crepes in an unintelligible variant of a fast food restaurant, afternoon sunlight pouring in the windows and people streaming by us, red plastic trays in hand. we ordered by pointing and spent the rest of the meal trying to decipher the system of the place.

later, we did more streetsign matching, moving against the wind towards kazimierz, the old jewish quarter. grit blew in our faces, sneaking into our eyes, and niki bought an apple at a street stall. true to form, we stopped in a perfectly pink cafe for tea and cake. we pointed our way to filling boxes of pastry, holding up the line with our english but making everyone smile.

we passed by shuttered, stuccoed bohemian clubs, cigarette smoke drifting out open doors into the deepening afternoon. one had old sewing machines for tables. the streets were quiet, residential, no one quite home from work yet as we found ourselves in the middle of kazimierz.

our first stop in the jewish quarter was an imposing, run-down catholic church. corpus christi, even. statements. niki took photos, then we left, never entering. it looked deserted and threatening.

blocks in the jewish quarter were spotted with blackened, graffitied buildings, their bricks looking hollow and fragile. old shells, gutted. the history of the place evident in soot and sadness. trees seemed more skeletal, the tips of iron fences more wicked. we found one of the oldest synagogues, now a museum, and gave our full attention to every article in its walls. i sat on a bench in the main room, looking up at the white walls and filigreed chandelier. perfect resting place.

outside the museum was a whitewashed apartment building. scrawled on the side facing the old synagogue was a star with a line through it and the word "cracovia."

we took our feet home, back towards the main square and our hostel. we sat in a park and ate our pastry, licking our fingers and being dazed. couples made out on nearby benches, oblivious to the jaw-dropping light yellowing all the trees.

later that night we ate pierogis and kielbasa, cabbage and carrots, pork fat and pork fat. we ate it all in a strangely underground tourist trap full of fake windows, lit from within by flourescent lights. we sat on rough-hewn benches and listened to the subdued conversation of the group of german men sitting behind us (next to the fake window).

after dinner we walked, winding through the familiarity of the park and streets near the main square. we peeked into bars and i was overly fussy, my feet hurting. we settled on a trendy place, dark and full of neon, where we got shots of vodka and grenadine (three each). the only thing in english on the menu, they were called "the scream of a virgin." the darkness of the place and the overall disposition we'd so far experienced in central europe led us to believe they didn't mean it in the celebratory sense.

finally, we fell into beds, gloriously clean. the first night we'd discovered questionable grit at the bottoms, where feet go, and asked the jarret-haiss-skinny hipster clerk for new sheets. he charmingly obliged and hereby enters my history as the closest thing i've had to a knight in shining armor.

our purchases and presents sat neatly on the windowsill, colorful in their soft, thin plastic bags, waiting for us to wake up and fly to england.