End

I'm going to start by telling you about our final evening.

We went back to that pierogi place and I indeed had the venison pierogis.  It was fallow deer, which for those of you picturing the prey of some guy dressed in orange, is domestic.  Naomi had apple pierogis and I also had a cup of warm, clear beet borscht.  The meal was fabulous.  We then sat in the square at a place that specializes in chocolate for a piece of layer cake (Na) and a cup of drinking chocolate with rum.  At that moments became convinced that I would have loved cafe society. Of course, I'd have to grow some kind of beard and there are those who might object to that.

We then walked back along the river.  There was a crescent moon, and lots of couples sitting and enjoying the night.  It was rather perfect.

Krakow is a place of excitement, hustle and secret sorrow.  The market square -- all the market squares -- is busy with people enjoying themselves.  There are bars everywhere.  But you can't step two meters (that's 1.75 Smoots, for you MIT folks) without someone hustling you.  "Try our restaurant."  "Do you want a tour?" "Carriage ride? The horses are guaranteed Polish."  In Prague there were beggars, everywhere actually.  But here it's hustle.

In a moment of extreme weakness I asked one of the booze hounds in the park for directions, which he kindly gave me, hit me up for money, then tried to bargain up, then tried the old I'll-loan-you-money-if-you're-so-hard-up guilt ploy.  I got away, but counted my fingers to see that they were all there.

 Oh, but the sorrow is there.  In people my age who remember what it was like before 1989. In older people who also remember the war.  The Jewish Quarter and the old ghetto have places where candles are lit and stones are placed.  Too many died.  The horrors were too real.  Auschwitz too close.

On the other hand, a lot of men cultivate a studies disheveled quality that, beyond a 20 year old hipster just wouldn't fly in the states.  We're Polish and we've got our own style - no jokes please.

In fact, if you're looking for the joke, it's only We Try Harder.  (Didn't that cause a minor diplomatic incident with Israel, once upon a time?)  In Paris, you can get a crepe on the street.  In Krakow you can eat some of the most glorious cuisine in the world.  In Krakow, you can eat pierogi. In Munich, Gwyneth Paltrow was on ads and billboards for makeup or perfume. In Krakow it's Mike Tyson for sports drinks.  In Prague, you can get a ticket that will let you into six or seven major sites in the Jewish Quarter where artifacts that have survived are respectfully preserved.  In Krakow, you can get a free tour of the Jewish quarter by a young Pole who can point out some buildings and tell you about the filming of Schindler' List.  If you've got less to start with, you've got to hustle.

The Poles do the Hustle very well.

We're now at the Krakow Airport.  We have entered airport space/time.  Our travels aren't over, but our adventures just about are.

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And now, the answer you've all been waiting for: a van, two airport shuttles, two airplanes, a bus and a taxi.  NONE OF THEM BROKE DOWN!