“That strange feeling—like the first signs of spring, like good news, had come over them.” -CS Lewis

St. Vitas and the castle looking mighty lovely in the sunshine

our very own castle nook

prettiest little town in the world

We Boarded a Train to Krakow

Friday morning, my roommate Andi and I were discussing how we’d spend our long weekend (Easter is celebrated on Monday here?) and we decided that this would be the perfect opportunity to visit Krakow, Poland. Because Poland is so Catholic, there would be tons of festivals and celebrations for the Easter triduum.

Of course anyone reading this knows that spontaneity is a quality I admire in other people, but not one that I possess. I have an evolving list of places I’d like to visit, and under each entry is an itinerary, transportation time tables, the recommended amount of time to spend there and the historical significance of the place. I had Krakow planned to a science.

We recruited our best friend to join us on the excursion, and then:

10:29pm: Boarded a train to Krakow (with a little difficulty: we tried to find our train wagon and were directed to opposite ends of the platform three times. After a quick game of platform ping pong, we found seats just in time for the train to pull away)

12:30am: Train stewards wake us up to check our tickets.

2:30am: Train stewards wake us up to check our tickets.

4:30am: Train stewards wake us up to check our tickets. Yell at us, something about Warsaw.

5:00am: Train stewards wake us up to check our tickets. Yell at us: “This train—not Krakow. Warsaw.”  We didn’t panic or blame. As this information washed over us and sank in, a light came on and suddenly it all made sense. In our hurry, we’d hopped on the wrong train wagon. Fun fact: A single European Train has the ability to split into different parts at various intervals of a trip.

7:35am: Arrive in Warsaw.

Whoops.

7:36am: Sprint to the ticket counter in search of tickets to Krakow. The one helpful train steward had written something in Polish on our tickets; we expected the ticket counter people to understand our predicament and help us. Foolish. More Polish people yelled at us, directed us from counter to counter (some of which would not open for two more hours) and wouldn’t help us until Andi stomped her foot and yelled back, “NO! HELP US! KRAKOW NOW!”

8:35am: Boarded a train to Krakow

11:40am: Arrive in Krakow

11:45am: Lunch: Ravenous, we stopped at the first Polish café we saw inside the terminal. Pointed to something on the menu, pleased with ourselves for a) making it to Krakow and b) ordering our first Polish meal.

It took this many tickets to get us to Krakow

12:15pm Served a plate of Doritos and ketchup

1:00pm: Get tickets for the train that leaves for Auschwitz in a few hours. Head to the city center to explore. Krakow is an amazing city. So beautiful and quaint, and everyone—young and old, boy and girl—was carrying wicker Easter baskets through the market. Charming and adorable, it made us laugh a little bit. We went into some beautiful churches and soaked in the general feeling of hope and happiness that the city exuded. There were musicians on every corner; our favorite was a dad and his young daughter singing outside a cathedral in the center. His highly stylized opera music contrasted delightfully with her childish squealing.

Alleluja indeed.

3:30pm: Hop the train to Auschwitz. Train takes about an hour longer than it’s supposed to, so we arrive at 5:30pm, and take off toward the camp.

6:00pm: What camp? It’s nowhere to be found. No signs. No signs of life. The camp would close in an hour, so we decide to scrap the Auschwitz plan and head back to Krakow where we could put that extra time to good use. After another quick game of ticket counter ping pong (we’re becoming quite skilled at this point), we realize that the next train will not leave for two hours, which would make us miss our night train back to Prague. Cue panic attack. We spot a bus coming over the hill and run to meet it at the bus stop. As I step to ask the conductor if he’s going to Krakow, he slams the doors and speeds away.  Thirty minutes later, a second bus arrives and—THANK GOD—carries us back to Krakow.

This was the best part of the trip. The bus traveled through small towns throughout the country, affording us a glimpse of the Easter Vigil celebrations. Churches were illuminated and surrounded with hordes of the faithful. Every grave in every cemetery was illumined with candles, a sight which I don’t think I’ll ever forget.

At some point along the journey, we began to reflect upon the day and were reduced to a fit of uncontrollable laughter. We laughed until we ached; laughed like crazy, hysterical madwomen until we arrived back in Krakow.

8:30pm: Arrive in Krakow for the second time! Twice in one day—how’s that for success? We run back to the center to check off one more Poland must do: pierogis! We make it just before the markets close and go back for second and third helpings of these delicious dumplings. All is right in the world. We grab two bottles of wine and sprint back to the station.

10:00pm: Depart Krakow. The train stops for an hour in the middle of the night “for daylight savings time.” Because why not?

9:30am: Wake up and spot Zizkov tower from the train window. WE MADE IT BACK TO PRAGUE! Cue laughter, tears and overwhelming joy. IT’S AN EASTER MIRACLE!  

We calculated that 31 hours of the 35 hour trip was spent in transit. Juxtaposing our final series of events with my original itinerary sent us into another fit of laughter. What are plans? There’s no such thing. 

Throughout those 35 hours we were collectively yelled at by SO MANY Polish people, slipped on SO MUCH ice, had iceballs thrown at us, and just generally failed at so many things that it’s honestly hard to believe it all happened. Still as we sit here on Easter Monday, watching Friends and recounting the weekend, we chalk it up in the success column. Sometimes the old adage is true; it really is more about the journey than the destination. That’s a lesson we learned aboard the literal Hot Mess Express.