I saw Warsaw*

Almost completely razed to the ground during World War II, only 15% of Warsaw's infrastructure was still standing at the end of the war. Varsovians, instead of taking the opportunity to start afresh, decided that they should rebuild - in many cases creating exact replicas - what had existed before the bombings. The Old Town, very similar in looks to Tallinn and Riga, has a bit of a movie-set feel to it because of this rebuilding; the walls are a little too straight, the cobblestones a little too even. Still, granted the status of a UNESCO World Heritage site (is every town centre in Europe a World Heritage site?) the historic centre of the city, Nowe/Stare Miasto, is a beautiful place, if a little too picture-perfect for my now wordly eyes.

I spent my three days in Warsaw catching up on sleep and hunting down all the note-worth sites according to my Warsaw guidebook, covering as much ground as possible on foot in the hot summer sun. I won't bore you by recounting all the different castles and parks I wondered through, though if you do ever make your way to Warsaw I would recommend checking out the Warsaw University Library. Only university students are allowed inside, but the real attraction is the 21,000 square foot rooftop garden. Winding paths defined by trellises covered in ivy lead up and over the the library, looping around the glass cupolas, including catwalks arching over the glass ceilings. The mottled green copper-plated walls blend into the profuse greenery, and my walk overtop the library was my favorite in three days of long walks. In many cases too-long walks, but that is another story entirely.

My sightseeing took me back and forth over the Vistula River, a river that has overun its banks in many places in Germany and Poland, and while it was unthreatening from what I could see, there were still endless lines of sandbags lining the banks in case of emergency. Usually there are steps along the river, but the waters have risen even with the sidewalk bordering the river, lapping at the numerous bicyclists and pedestrians making their way along the banks.

On the day I caught my train to Kiev, I tagged along with Fraser, a Scotsman on holiday, and Eric, an American who had studied in Warsaw a few years back. We walked over to the Warsaw Uprising Museum, a rather grim reminder of the impact of German and Russian occupation (Poland has only been free of Communism since 1989) and then followed Eric as we traveled by tram, metro and bus to the Wilanow Poster Museum. This was a much more cheery and light-hearted affair than the previous cultural experience and enjoyable all the more given the free admission on Mondays.

Back to the hostel and then a brisk walk to the train station, I caught the 4:20 train out of Warsaw to Kiev where I am now after a relaxing seventeen hour overnight trip. There were no English-speakers to engage in conversation, but one of my carriage mates, Igor, a Ukrainian now working in France, made a valiant effort to scale the rather imposing language barrier. His English, significantly better than either my French or Russian or Ukrainian, still wasn't that good, but I appreciated him working so hard to hold a conversation with a Westerner. Especially one who speaks only one language. "Only one?" Igor said, before laughing at my joke. I just smiled widely and nodded. "Really, only one?" Igor's face clouded as he realized what an idiot I was. "Yeah, it's crazy," I said and he looked relieved that I recognized how handicapped I was, rapidly nodding his agreement.

*Worst rhyme (and blog title) ever