Walking Warsaw

Warsaw has one palm tree. It is on the roundabout where Nowy Swiat meets Aleje Jerozolimskie, between Bank Gospodarstwa Krajowego and the stock exchange (previously the headquarters of the Communist party). It isn't even a real palm tree.

The man in Bed 6 in the dorm snores and I have had a headache all day today. Paracetamol and bottles of water haven't helped.

I walked to River Wisla this morning and spent time there away from the city before heading back into the old part of Warsaw. An artist was painting watercolours and drawing pencil drawings of the buildings there. Nintey per cent of Warsaw was destroyed during WWII and these buildings are modern copies of what was built three hundred years before. It is reminiscent of the market square in Brugges.

It gets dark at five o'clock.

I came across an exhibition of Polish poetry but couldn't find anyone who spoke English to talk to about it. Eventually I came across a french speaking Polish man. So there I was, talking poetry, in French, in Poland. I wanted to hear one of the poems read aloud, to hear the musicality, the rhythm, the sound of it, but when I turned back to ask my French speaking comrade to read it for me he had gone.

I spent the evening with someone I have met through my jive dancing. He is setting up Poland's first Modern Jive club. We ate Polish food at Lolek Pub, drank beer, and looked at the view of the city from the 40th floor of the Marriott Hotel.

Tomorrow afternoon I catch the sleeper train to Moscow. Train number 6, country number 6 (counting the transit of Belarus as one). I hope the man in Bed 6 doesn't snore so much tonight.