Purple?

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Yet another night of not nearly enough sleep. I’m up at 4.00, packed, showered, dressed and out the door by 5.15. We headed to Luton Airport by cab, the first ride in a car I’ve had since parking in Tallahassee. Security there is tight, we're being herded like cattle through a number of rows for the x-ray and metal detectors. Then we bought champagne for the wedding at the Duty Free, and grabbed some breakfast, two chocolate croissants, the lightest and fastest breakfast I’ve had in England.
We walk out on the tarmac and board a large, purple WizzAir (pronounced Weezer, neither spelling, nor pronunciation instills faith) Airbus 320. I had never seen this exact shade of purple before, but oddly I will see it again later in the day, very nearly twice. A short and again sleepless flight and we disembark in Gdansk, Poland. After collecting our baggage and being questioned, by large men with side arms, about our reasons for visiting, we meet the bride to be, Agnieszka (ag-nEsh-ca) and her brother-in-law, Christopher. Robin, Aga, and Christopher leave in one car and the four of us take one of the scariest rides of my life in a taxi. Again I end up with a lovely room that has a view to die for!
No sooner do we get checked in, when Agnieszka wants to take us on a walking tour of Old Gdansk. It began in the late morning, but didn’t end until late evening. We walked through the city, stopping to see this and that, but mostly to see the church the wedding would be held in.
To start it’s the only church that wasn’t blown up during World War II. Not only that, it’s the only one to have stayed Catholic through the Protestant Reformation. Only four years ago it celebrated its 775 anniversary! For anyone who can’t relate to that number, it was built and in use more than 265 years before Christopher Columbus had a bright idea to get out of Italy and have a chat with Queen Isabel of Spain.
Once again, this wouldn’t be my blog without some gastronomic information. Lunch was at an interesting little restaurant along the river. I asked Aga to order me something that was traditionally Polish. She asked me some questions about my likes and dislikes, and then took a guess. The soup, borscht, was the exact same color purple as the WizzAir jet! This seemed neither logical, nor appetizing, but when in Rome or Gdansk for that matter…do as they do. I ate about half of it before I thought I would be ill. I told her I didn’t like it, and she understood. Seems a cold beet and cucumber soup doesn’t go over with a lot of tourists. The main course arrived shortly thereafter, two whole (heads & tails included) flounders with french fries and pirogues. Absolutely delicious! I can’t tell you why, maybe because it was caught that morning, maybe the romance of being in a foreign country, but it was wonderful. I cleaned my plate, save for the skeletal remains, which rather put off the two resident vegetarians, but they know not what they're missing.
We walked a while more, and then declared naptime. I was called to get ready for dinner, and we found a place called BarBados, which had a Mediterranean décor, a live band playing American country and oldies standards (we’re talking Righteous Brothers, Elvis, and Kenny Rogers), and served authentic Polish cuisine. Again, Aga chose well and we both had a potato pancake with pork loin and mushrooms in heavy gravy. It was better than lunch! After a couple more pints we headed back to the hotel. In my room, I decided laundry had become a necessity. I grabbed my dirty clothes, went to the bathtub and proceeded to do laundry the old-fashioned, and back-breaking way. All it takes, is some soap, some hot water, and a lot of elbow grease. The water afterwards was proof of my labors, and I can only imagine what the housecleaners will say, in the morning, of my drying clothes. I then went and bought a wireless card, so with any luck I’ll be able to post these blogs a little easier for the next couple of days. Maybe even load some pictures that everyone keeps emailing me for.

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