Bitched Up For New Years

WENCESLAS SQUARE, PRAGUE: So here is basically the recreated text of an email I posted earlier this week that was inexplicably marooned somewhere in the digital annals.

New Years Eve commenced with an overpriced train ride to Marbork, a small Polish town that includes the largest brick castle in Europe. Marbork seemed to be one of those pleasent small towns you see all over the US and parts of Europe but never in Australia. Not too big, not too small, just right as goldilocks might say. Anyway it was snowing buckets when we got to the castle and most of it was closed. The upside was apart from a bus load of package German tourists who departed on our arrival we had most of this amazing castle to ourselves. We were free to run along the hallways, play in the various courtyards and explore up and down the various curving staircases that were open. We even had an aborted attempt at building a snowman. Outside the castle walls, and the two moats, were completely covered by thick blankets of snow. It was quite a Narnia experience.


Narnia World


More Narnia World... (No CGI here)

Then on a bridge across a river that overlooks the castle - it gives you quite a special panorama, we met a couple of Polish kids. They wanted to impress us with their command of English swearwords:-
"Suck my sausage you shithead."
So I obliged by teaching them some new ones:-
"Muthaf&%ka."

Then we engaged in our first real live, genuine snowball fight. I have to admit with Kate offering little to no assistance, and three of the experienced little buggers we were quite soundly beaten.

In the afternoon we headed back to our hostel in Gdansk to get bitched up with three French actors and a school teacher who we were sharing our room with. They were a really cool crew and I now have somewhere to stay somewhere in France. They spent the entire night trying to teach me how to speak French. The #1 lesson: "French is not a language, it's an accent."

When I was good and shitfaced I started proclaiming that I too, with a heart of Rimbaud and Voltaire, was also French. They said to be French I needed to be arrogant. Kate seems to believe I fulfill this requirement. Surely my good readers don't concur?

Anyway we spent the next day moping around Gdansk and trying to leave for Berlin however since all the tickets were booked we opted for Prague instead. So it was another train back to Warsaw (for the 3rd time in a little over a week) and then on to Prague in a tiny little overnight cabin that featured three tiers of bunks.

paka my friends and happy new year!