Part 7: Warsaw (Days 13, 14, 15)

---

The capital of Poland definitely feels different to Krakow and Gdansk. Home to around 1.5million people, it was bustling during evening rush hour when we finally got to the city centre. Our arrival saw us squeeze our way through a mass of office workers on their mobile phones on our 1km walk from the station to the hostel. This may surprise you if you read the Daily Mail, because of course it seems to be under the impression that all Poles are in the UK, stealing our jobs and our women.

Things had not got off to a good start. We arrived at suburban Wshodnia station at first, around 2.5 miles from the Okidoki Hostel, our home for the next two nights. At this point we were subjected to our first Eastern European rip-off attempt when a taxi driver wanted more than 15 pounds to take us there. I politely told him to shove it, and we ended up back on the station getting a suburban train for the 5 minute ride to Central station. Which we didn't pay for, so plenty of zloty saved there.

After checking in at the hostel helped by unbelievably friendly staff, we discovered that we had arrived minutes from happy hour in the cosy bar. After I and another strapping gent had become instant heroes by carrying a barrel up from the basement when the beer ran out, we took advantage of the pound-a-pint offer and got sloshed with a friendly group of Germans.

After about midnight, in our inebriated states we decided that, nearly two weeks in, it was high time we did a bit of clubbing. This proved an error as I ended up drinking and dancing in my individual epileptic way with our new teutonic companions until gone 4am. Si had wisely retired a couple of hours previously.

As a result, the following day became a bit of a write off. Feeling decidedly ropey already, sightseeing was put on the backburner when we discovered that there was only one train going to Vilnius the following day. At 7.20am.

We had to be on it, so we abandoned our walk around the city and made haste to central station where we eventually booked our tickets following some faffing around with queues. By this time it was gone 4pm. My state of mind was not being helped by hourly dashes to public toilets, and we opted to call off the exploring for good, go back and get some rest before taking in the old town by night.

For once, we had made a wise decision. After a meal along Royal Way, the 4km stretch of road home to the Polish president's building and Potocki Palace amongst others, we headed up to the old town. At night it was an enchanting sight with spectacular churches lit up by subtle spotlights and plenty of cosy restaurants. The highlight was the 13th century Royal Castle.

The beauty of Warsaw's old town is all the more remarkable because the Nazis absolutely hammered it and the rest of the city during World War II. You would never know. Buildings were carefully rebuilt and restored from their foundations, and it is now a world heritage site.

In contrast to Krakow, which preceded Warsaw as the capital, the damage to the city during the war was crippling. Almost every building of historic or economic significance was levelled. The entire city became a ghost town when it was totally evacuated in 1944 and 85 per cent of it was destroyed.

Walking around Warsaw, it seemed a modern looking city now. There was little evidence of ruins, only at the National Bank which has been kept as the Nazis left it. There was plenty of history on display though including the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier which stands underneath partially destroyed arches. It is said that the Nazis left this memorial for the dead of World War I alone deliberately as a mark of respect when they were devastating the rest of the city a quarter of a century later.

Sadly there was no time to explore the city more thoroughly, although we did get lost on our way back from the old town and ended up in an area where you might go if for example you wanted a hooded youth to relieve you of your wallet with menaces. Luckily we made it back alive and got our respective heads down early, ready for a 5.30am start which would see us depart Poland after seven and a half days.

Although we never really got the opportunity to warm to it properly, Warsaw was the scene of a fine triumph on Thursday morning. I like my creature comforts and after a couple of weeks away from England I had begun to miss certain things, especially with the knowledge that I still had two and a half months away. So it may not sound much to you but when I saw an English language copy of Men's Health magazine on the shelves of a newsagent at Central station, I was so happy I could have planted a big sloppy one on the face of the shop assistant. Who was a slightly unhygenic-looking woman in her 60s. I was welling up. Normally I'm more of a Men's Fitness man but this was close enough. It was priced up at about a tenner but all happiness comes at a price. My inane grin had seemingly marked me out to said assistant as a bit of a mentalist, as she looked at me as though I had just run over her cat, scraped it into a jiffy bag and mailed it back to her without paying the correct postage. Later, it transpired that it was the US edition of Men's Health and not the UK version, which took the gloss off a little.

Mood suitably lifted, we made our way to the platform where a worrying number of people were staring at a monitor showing news of Russia seemingly kicking off on the Ukraine, one of our destinations. But luckily I was still buzzing and didn't let it affect me. Just as well really - the train to Vilnius would take ten hours.

---