I had forgotten that Pope John Paul was from Krakow, or at least had some connection to it, but the city itself will not let you NOT know that. His likeness and name are everywhere, and were inescapable even from the moment of getting off the train. Nevertheless, I jumped off, honestly and completely unsure of what to do, but pretty sure that finding lodging for the evening should be a good place to start, and began walking down the ramp toward the city.
As I emerged from the underside of the train tracks, a small woman in her early 40’s (I’m guessing) approached me and spilled a string of Polish, to which I just smiled and told her that I didn’t und
erstand. She shifted gears immediately to English, and asked me if I was looking for accommodation. I cocked an eyebrow and told her that I was (how weird is this?!), and she began to tell me that she had many different places for tourists to stay. I resisted at first, but only slightly, and mostly because of price (she wanted 30 Euros – which is about $70) for a “very private roo
m with its own bath”, but I told her that I knew I could stay at a hostel for less than 12 Euros (about $25) as I had done some checking on the Internet before traveling, and didn’t really want to spend more than that. She scowled a little, said, 12 Euros isn’t much, but I can still help you.” I smiled and told her thanks, and so we began walking away from the station.
My mind was flooded with conflicting thoughts as to the intelligence of this move, thinking that my new hostess could either be one of those “men of peace” that Jesus talked about when He sent his disciples out, or could be a black widow who you hear and read about in urban legends, and who snares wayward travelers, drugs them, and then harvests their kidneys for a quick $30K.
I sighed, decided to keep my wits about me, and follow her. I figured at the very least, it would be an adventure, and at the very worst, I could “handle myself” if she had a couple of burly dudes waiting to jump me (wouldn’t they be in for a treat – especially considering that I’ve spent the better part of the last 7 years preparing for such an instance :- ): , but figured that the more likely range of possibilities included a brothel on one end, or a spare room at her apartment at the other (the former possibility being untenable, and the latter only tenable if it wasn’t just going to be the two of us).
As we walked, Bilbo Baggins words to Frodo popped into my head when he said, “It’s a dangerous business going out your front door. If you don’t keep your footing, there no telling where you might be swept off to.”, and I realized that I was rather ignoring it, but resigned myself just the same.
“I’m Jack,” I mentioned as we walked, and she said, “I’m Gruznya”. Gruznya? Really, I thought? If Polish is similar to Russian (and it is as they are both Slavic based languages), then her name means “Terrible”. Like Ivan “The Terrible” was Ivan Grozny (“Grozny” means “Terrible” in Russian), but with a “ya” on the end, makes it a feminine form. “Well then,” I again thought, “this certainly will be an adventure – here I go to stay at ‘Terrible’s’ house!”
Fortunately, the “just a spare room at her apartment” was the option that presented itself. Terrible lives at home with her elderly mother, and after she showed me into the room, gave me keys, took my money, and showed me where the bathroom was (which she and her mother shared as well), I didn’t see her again. It was a small room with beds that creaked significantly if you sat or reclined on them. The good news was that I was her only guest, however, so I contented myself to drop my gear and then head out to see what I could see of Krakow.
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