The Adventures of Sharon & Sandra

A five-hour train trip lands us in Krakow, a land of many promises. Sandra has visited many times, and loved each occasion. From her memories, the city is classy, beautiful and romantic; Poland’s alternative to Paris. We head to the home that we will be sharing with our smiling, friendly hosts for two days, then head to bed, ready for the big day ahead. We not only have sights to see, but a car to buy- our next flight leaves from London, and we need to get our butts across Europe to get there!

In the morning, we set off to one of the highlights of Poland; an underground world built of salt. When Sandra first told Sharon about the Wieliczka mine, she laughed in disbelief; as if a small city could be built out of salt! It doesn’t take long for her to realise it’s true; the mine, which has been out of operation for many years, boasts a convention centre, a dining hall, sculptures, chandeliers, a chapel, lakes and a grand staircase. Everything, from the floor to the walls to the ceiling, is made of salt- with the small exception of the light bulbs! Although pricey, the tour is well worth it, particularly once we’re informed we’re allowed to lick the walls. We take full advantage of that bonus!

We head home and start cooking up a storm with our host, who shares with us the secrets of making killer Kopytka- small potato bundles resembling gnocchi, but served with a sugary sauce or sour cream. We gladly provide laughter to our host, who watches us get covered in flour as we attempt to knead and cut the pieces to the right size. We drool as we devour the results of our hard work, and stash the recipe for definite later use.

Day two sees us exploring Krakow’s beautiful old square. It is one of the most significant locations in Poland to have survived the war, and still holds a classic charm that makes us feel as though we have stepped back in time. Our day is spent doing Krakow the traditional way- eating home-made ice-cream, perving on endless supplies of amber, and stopping every hour to enjoy Polish delicacies. Sandra ends her day by making out with some pigeons, an experience central to any visit to Krakow. The birds are as excited about her as she is about them, and peck away at her ears, through the holes in her crocs, and at her hair. Once the pigeon fix is had, we head home to pack up; it is time for us to say goodbye to our lovely family and meet some new hosts.

As soon as we arrive at our new hosts’ house, we get a vibe that things are going to go wrong. They corner us in their hallway with our bags still on our backs, and berate us for writing introductory letters that were too long, for not specifying that Sandra could speak Polish, and for not calling them from a phone that didn’t have static. A bit shell-shocked, we unload our bags and head warily to the dinner table. It is at that dinner table that the real fun begins!

We immediately notice that the husband in this relationship is an egotistic, power-hungry asshole who loves nothing more than the sound of his own voice. The wife fits his equation perfectly, by only speaking when the time comes to admire him for his intelligence, humour, or other ego-stroking characteristic. We spend the first few minutes politely responding to his questions, until he begins to say some questionable things. By the time he has stated that gay people are only gay because they’re not old enough to realise they’re straight, that all Polish people are unintelligent morons who deserved to be invaded by the intelligent Germans, and that Indigenous Australians are an uncivilised population who have benefited from white invasion, Sandra is doing more than just steaming from her ears. She is not only arguing with him, but arguing well; as a graduate of a Gender and Cultural studies and an old-time debating participant, she knows her stuff inside out and easily defeats his ignorant assertions. Instead of thinking about the points she is making, however, he just gets more fired up; this is clearly not a man used to being challenged.

Now, while Sandra loves debating, there are a few simple rules that she feels need to be followed. Rule number one: listening. The point of debating is to learn, she figures, and to do that, one needs to listen. Rule number two: being able to produce arguments that have a solid foundation of logic. Rule number three: not getting personal. Academic arguments should remain just that- academic. Unfortunately for our male brute, he manages to break each of these rules within the first ten minutes. He speaks over Sandra constantly, breaking rule number one. He then produces an argument with clear flaws, and when it is criticised, responds with, ‘It’s just fact, because I said so’. There goes rule number two. It is when he breaks rule number three, however, that things really turn sour; as soon as he senses he is losing the argument, he offends Sandra’s status as a lesbian, her status as a vegetarian, her status as a female, her status as an Australian for reconciliation, and- this being the breaking point- her status as a Pole. Once he gets personal, all barriers are down- Sandra promptly tells him what she thinks of him (who knew she knew such words?!), walks out, slams the door and packs her bags. With a final verbal dig at them as we walk out of their home, we leave.

The event has shaken us significantly. Sandra is extremely upset, and Sharon is not faring much better. It is night-time, it is raining, and it is cold; feeling a lot worse for wear, we head to the main train station, where economically disadvantaged Polish ladies are always attempting to hire out their rooms for extra funds. We follow one home, and lock ourselves in the room for the next week, trying to recover from our emotional hurt. There are many more places we want to explore in Poland, but neither of us wants to remain in the country any longer. To top it off, we have just discovered that we cannot buy the car we need unless we are residents of Poland. We feel stuck, we feel upset, and we feel restless. We find a local café that provides wireless internet, and start making new plans; we soon have ourselves sorted with flights to England, Italy and France booked.

We attempt to reempower our experience of Krakow by spending our last days visiting some of the key things we wanted to see. The ancient castle captures our imagination, and we laugh as we crawl through the dungeon of a dragon whose story defines Krakowian folklore.

The old cloth hall, an imposing building set in the middle of the square, delights us with its Polish handicrafts and jewels. As always, the food is magnificent, and goes a long way towards making us feel better. We leave with slightly lighter hearts, but still wounded; sadly, neither of us are willing to return to our homeland until we have completely recovered from the cruel words spoken by our evil host.