No zoom. That’s me getting attacked by pigeons. Pelted by pigeons. Terrifying.
First day in Krakow. Beautiful, beautiful city. Sitting in a coffee shop where I could make small change to eat lunch at a smaller local place. Tour of the Jewish quarter at three (3:36p.m. edit – maybe 3p.m. tomorrow).
Big day, friends. Big day.
I know a few of you were worried I’d come back to the States unable to dress in matching outfits, look like a respectable woman. Be huggable.
Today, I’m indeed looking like a normal person. Jeans were acquired in a Hungary secondhand shop. I haven’t worn jeans since mid-August. They’re pretty flared. They’re pretty fantastic.
But bigger news, I blow-dried my hair today. First time since Spain. It’s gotten longer since then.
So you all can sleep a little easier tonight.
But do know this: I believe the no-makeup route has done me wonders in making friends this trip. See, there are three distinct types of girls I’ve noticed.
1) The quiet, serious girls traveling alone. Usually in bed by nine, reading a book by the bedside lamp. Up early, silently leaving while the rest of the room is still asleep.
2) The nightlife girls. “Backpacking” (probably 2-3 weeks) with full makeup, wardrobe, hair supplies, and clothes bedazzled, multiple pairs of shoes. Always matching.
3) The pretty, hip (sometimes hippie) girls with long skirts and nose rings that look cool every day of their lives.
I’m social. I’m at happy hour. Not in bedazzled clothes or full makeup. Not out to hook-up with anyone. Side note, anyone wondering what that part of backpacking looks like.. the scene for that sort of thing? You’re probably not hooking up with the cute local waiter. But you can have your European adventure with any drunk American… Maybe Australian if you want something “different!”
Because I was so big on that before.
So, I’m on the couch, drinking a beer, and I make friends with the guys. I certainly don’t look intimidating. I might not make it into your bed at the end of the night, but hell, I’ll make you laugh for twenty minutes. And fifteen minutes in, as though I’m just one of the guys, you’ll be telling me about the girl you shagged last night.
I think we subconsciously bond over our fear of talking to the pretty girls drinking cocktails.
So, on this normal respectable human being Sunday, I’ve been out wandering. Walking tours to come, a visit to the salt mine, and a trip to Auschwitz.
In keeping with the theme of “funny photos taken by strangers…” This morning was pretty amusing. All I wanted was one decent photo to send home.
More photos, not of me, later.