Then I wandered round the road that goes around the park that goes around the old town. All the way round. Right past the hostel. I couldn't find it and the Polish street sellers didn't want to help (they said "I don't know English" - in English) so I had to ask the old standby to bail me out: my long-suffering mum.
And then I found it.
At about half 4.
They had triple bunks.
All this walking and getting lost (seems to be a theme of Polish cities...) and I needed some food. I went to a restaurant on the advice of the hostel receptionist that was called Grandma something's. Apparently it did good traditional food and was "not expensive". So I wandered down that way.
I found the sign for the restaurant, and first of all I thought that I was walking into a church. Then I went down some stairs into a basement. This 'restaurant' was a Polish milkbar. Classic decor, wooden benches, wooden tables, the lot - atmospheric to say the least.
|Grandma says hi|
It turned out that I'd ordered a large plate of meat plus mushrooms plus sauce plus rice plus salad. My kind of meal. Filled me up quite nicely for about a fiver - bargain!
I washed it down with beer of course, which is acceptable to drink at any time and with (or without) any meal when you're travelling. I'm essentially a nomadic bum, so I may as well fit the stereotype given that I'm sprouting excessive facial hair already.
I liked it so much that I went back again later.
|The Cloth Hall in Krakow Main Square. I can't think of an awful pun for this one.|
And then we went for a wander round Krakow, and found a 24 hour deli. Since it was a solution to the major first world problem found in Europe that nothing is open late enough, we had to go in. And we proceeded to spend about an hour in there because noone knew the Polish for protein, carbs or fat, which is obviously very important. And asking is just admitting defeat.
|This is what I do when I decide to be a tourist.|