Have a Krak at Krakow... no really, it's great!

Deciding on not your average city break.... so not your Barca, your Dam or your Berlin, myself and three friends just returned from a cracking (I'll stop soon but not yet) weekend in sunny Krakow, Poland. And by gosh, we had a hoot. Recommended by a friend, we were told it was cheap, beautiful, cheap, not too touristy, and cheap. This was going to be our place. The place of dreams. And that it was. After a six hour stint at Stanstead (Wetherspoons), a few beers, a bottle of Prosecco and a sharer pack of Revels later, we were ready to board our luxurious Ryainair flight, taking nothing more than a suitcase to squash on as hand luggage (NO Ryanair, I will NOT at any point be paying an extra 70 euros to check my bag in, reserve a seat, wee, poo or breathe on the flight) and a couple of cheapo celeb magazines selling yet another Kerry Katona life story.

As the majority of this holiday was a culmination of really stupid and babbling private jokes, x-rated conversations about sex, deep and meaningfuls about families and babies, and a fuckload of pizza eating, I'd like to break down Krakow for you generally, in hope of really selling it.

1. The currency

The zloty. Or as we were hell bent on calling it: lev/ lira/ euro/ quid/ pound. Due to none of us being able to remember what it was OR pronounce the real deal, we thought it best to just replace. In all seriousness though, the zloty is an absolute touch when it comes to the exchange rate. We worked it out at just under five zloty to the pound. So when a beer is about six... you do the maths (yes, I am adding an 's' to math as I am not American and or annoying). Don't get me wrong, we did get bumped the odd time. Namely by taxis. At just gone midnight, we jumped in a taxi to our apartment from the airport, giving the driver our full address, word for word, number for number, who told us the ride would cost 80 lev. Sweet, we thought, not bad between four. Around 10 minutes later, we had arrived at our 'destination'... I use that loosely as it turns out door number 27 equates to door number 'other end of the street'. Having all just withdrew massive wads of cash from the ATM, none of us had any change or small notes so I just handed over a 100 zloty (baller) and span out my best 'thank you' in Polish. A smile and 'thank YOU very much' from the cabbie, he smiled, got back to his car and took off! No change for us! Cool. Thanks for the blinding service. We found out later that when it comes to tips, if you utter thank you after paying the bill, it basically means they can pocket the change. Our lips were sealed shut after that escapade.

2. Pronunciation

Accents for me mostly go down like a shit sandwich. Imagine Delboy Trotter doing the 'mange tout, mange tout' act...but in every country and with the same over-cockney 'woiii oiiii' tinge to go with it. It was no different in Poland. Deciphering the map was a hard feat on its own, let alone then trying to find the street names and THEN trying to pronounce them when asking someone in what direction they were. To help ourselves, we ended up calling the things just names that we could make up from a couple of letters. For example, Meiselsa Street became Melissa Street, club Piekny Pies became Pickney Piez and the Jewish Quarter itself Kazimierz turned into Kazmir/ Cashmere/ Kazzymier/ something Borat would say. Needless to say, we had to get around with hardly no help at all. It was mere gobeldygook to the locals.

3. The bars

Were so cool. Most were decked out in what could only be described as the result of a trippy grandma having had a field day in a charity or antique shop. There was no real set style just an amalgamation of vintagey looking stuff with some modern day artwork or posters. But the vibes were always spot on. A personal fave was the Singer bar where real old school Singer sewing machines were stuck to the tables and you drunk around them. So cool. Another, was a little secret bar that was just off the main street in the square, hidden away behind a tattoo parlour. Creeping downstairs with low ceilings, you arrived at this basement cellar bar playing quite grimy electro and serving ice cold beers. It also had this treehouse cubby type place to chill which we quickly nabbed and we all chortled at how great it was. Living it up quite literally.



4. The food

Hmm. Food wasn't actually going to get its own thing here because actually it wasn't THE best. On the good side of things, we did enjoy the traditional Polish dumpling, also known as a 'pierogi' (or to us a peroni/ perogni. Sure). These were a bit like dim sum and were filled with potato, spinach, beef or cabbage or a combination of a couple. They went down a dream... unlike the famous pizza bread 'zapiekanka'. What looked like from afar a banging, open Subway foot long topped with anything your heart desired, such as, chicken from hell and growing ham, (we were 100% unsure too) and they did in fact turn out to be...gross. The base was made from some sort of mushroom puree, the tomato sauce was basically thinly applied ketchup, and the toppings were sprinkled on about one every five inches. More to the point, they tasted like shit. Apparently you are supposed to eat them 'after midnight' aka they taste better when you're drunk. I'm not too sure any form of alcohol would knockout the taste of one crumb of those terrible eats.



5. The booze

The beer was dreamy. Tyskie beer, yep you know the one...it's the can thats always in your newsagent; the one that you get as a last resort if Red Stripe has sold out, was delicious. Not too gassy and always cold and refreshing, we necked quite a few of this throughout the days and nights. Feeling a little bit woozy after only two pints in the day, we later found out the beer is served in half litre glasses. Not pints. Course it was.... and to that, we'll have a CHEERS! As for the vodka. WOW. Think of Vokda Revolution bar menu...but better and with much better vodka, better flavours, and better clientele joining in on it. Ordering our first of the weekend at a tiny bar off Plac Novy, all four of us were ready to raise a glass and clink a drunken slur of "waaaayyyy..I LOVE YOU.... to the best holiday everrrrrr"before necking them, we were quickly told these were not shots to down in one and were in fact drinks to sip. *Ohhhhhhh* ricocheted four times around the bar as we handed over a mere 50p per shot to the bemused looking barman. As for the flavours we tried, you'd have to ask someone else. I simply could not tell you.

6. The people

Ok, so we didn't actually integrate with many Krakowians but we did have a whole heap of love for our landlord for the weekend, Greg. We booked his apartment on Air bnb and for three nights, his swanky swish apartment was 40 quid each! Seriously cheap. Prior to our arrival, he sent us emails saying he couldn't wait to see us (less creepy, more friendly, honest) and that he would meet us at the flat on our arrival. Four girls and four really noisy wheeley suitcases later, he was there waiting with our keys. He was THE loveliest guy ever! So sweet. When we got to the flat a bottle of wine was waiting for us as well as a bunch of leaflets and brochures about what to see and do during our time there. He told us we could call him any day at any time if we needed anything. AH GREG! The next day while we were out about just checking out Da Vinci's 'Lady With An Ermine' (yes we DID do culture and that), he text us saying:

"Hello nice girl team. My wife will try to meet you at 4pm. If she is not there at 4 just lock the door. Put all keys to bag and to letter box nbr 21. Everything ok? Greg (currently in sunny Hungary)"

How cute?! We were the nice girl team! And it felt great. We text him back saying we'd double locked the door and thanked him for being the best. Signed off 'nice girl team'. Obvs.

So there you have it. Krakow. Pronounced Krakov. (See, we've learnt). I could go on about how beautiful the old town was, how pretty the main square was and how stunning the architecture was but you have to see it for yourself. It really was a great place and a great time and I am itching to go back and explore more. So go! Who needs Dublin when the kraic is popping off in Krakow?!...Ok, that was the last one. Na drowie!

"meal deal or no deal?"..."no deal"

I'm blaming it on the weather. I'm British... I have every right to blame anything and everything I want on the weather. The drear and gloominess of late aka forever, has made me even more lazy than ever before and I can't summon the energy to do much at all at the moment; be it from putting my pyjama bottoms straight over my tights when I get home because it's long to take them off to not even wanting to finish a sentence. However, my laziness came round to bite me on my arse at around 8.40am this morning.

Living only an 8 minute train ride to Liverpool Street station, a 10 minute walk to work in Monument, and a quick stop off at the Sainsbury's local en route, I have recently been finding this journey both annoying and quite traumatic. Traumatic might be a bit strong but weaving in and out of an angry, militant, and marching fleet of suits every morning, avoiding briefcase bashes and cigarette burns can take its toll. So anyway, this morning I thought I'd switch things up. Stick it to the proverbial man in the suit and instead take the four stops bus journey from the station to work instead and for added bonus points, venture into the huge Tesco en route to pick up my lunch. MISTAKE.

Walking in, once again through a heaving wave of banker wankers, you have to walk past the greasy chicken wing/ cheese and onion pasty/curry aisle to get to the lunch section. It's exactly what you want to see, smell, and embrace all before 9am. I was thinking meal deal, seeing as I was missing my usual dip into Sainsbury's and so I thought I'd see what it's competitors had to offer. The selection looked bright from the off with its shelf upon shelf of sandwiches, rolls, wraps and salads. But I was to be quickly disappointed. In amongst it all were the Tesco's 'Finest' sandwich selection and I clocked quite a few corkers... there was the New York pastrami number, the Mexican chicken special with guacamole, the caviar and truffles (ok, maybe not the last one)...but much to my dismay, these weren't even included in the meal deal offer. Sorry...but seriously? I'm used to Sainsburys' spread of 'Taste the Difference' sarnies with salt beef, brie and cranberry and probably caviar and truffles sandwiches to sort me out! But no, not this time. This time, I got lumbered with a beaten up, cheese and ham (not entirely sure rubber constitutes as ham) sandwich squashed into a dog eared, damp card board package. Gross. To top it all off, you were allowed a choice of a mere three chocolate bars: a Kit Kat (I hate wafer), Wispa (Really? Do people still buy Wispas?) and a Snickers (my favourite all round....but they were sold out). CHEERS. Course they were. Picking up the Wispa, I walked over to the drinks and decided on a (luke warm) bottle of Coke. At this point and to my gut wrenching realisation that I had made a terrible mistake, I couldn't help but think that Saino's really had got it spot on. They give you the option to pick the smaller sized bottle, the little "I'm the perfectly sized bottle for lunch" option. But not Tesco. No. Not unthoughtful and inconsiderate Tesco.

Let down, disappointed, and now running 10 minutes late due to disbelief and trauma, I quickly paid and left immediately to a waiting and unbelievably rammed number 48 bus. Pushed up against the window and trapped in between an over packed rucksack and an awkwardly positioned buggy, I began to majorly regret my journey cop out short cut. I realised I should have just sucked it up and done the 15 minute walk to work, despite the early doors feeling of tiredness and laziness. It's healthier and really can count as my exercise for the day. And more importantly, I shouldn't have switched supermarket teams and missed out on my trusty dip into Sainsbury's for an undoubted lunching feast.

After posting on Twitter, the lovely guys at Saino's tweeted me their appreciation!