Most of the people I met coming the "otherway" said not to bother to much with Warsaw but a combination of great hostel (free sweets on Thursdays, free beer on Saturdays and an absolute princess working at the reception (If you plan on going its called Hostel Helveltia, say Hi to Ania for me)), great weather, a really interesting museum, a pretty old town and an increasing affection for Polish food made wish I stayed longer than the three nights I did.
The first night I was there I went out with a few Aussie blokes from Brisbane. Wouldn't have mentioned if it wasn't for one of the blokes who almost became a surrogate Phroosh. Both played guitar, both liked You am I, both had an unhealthy fascination with cricket and both would have being competing for Timmy Rogers / Brett Kirk look a like of the year. But this bloke really loved horse racing and once that I mentioned that I was friends with Mick Whittles nephew and went on summer holidays to the town that Kerin McEvoy grew up in we spoke for hours (him mostly) about Roman Arch, Melbourne Cups, Equine Flu, the Goldolphin Stable and anything else remotely to do with horses. The pub we went to was also a bit of a corker. Nothing to flash just real laid back, mostly locals and it seems almost every Polish Australian in Warsaw.
The museum I speak of focused on the Warsaw Uprising against the Germans during the Second World War. Really interesting with human accounts, footage, photos and collections of artillery, uniforms and memorabilia. Only it was too popular for its own good and you almost had to wait five minutes to read a commentary or look at a photo.
Warsaw was also the home of the best meal I've eaten since Mum's Crusty Chicken Pie or the Lamb Ragout Dad cooked that time with the Pressure Cooker. It goes by the name of 'Dla gtodniejszych placek dziadka macieja z gulaszem I surowkami podawany' or for the rest of us 'Grandpa Macfej potato pancakes with Beef Goulash and salad'.
The old town ( or rather the reconstruction of the old town) was pretty but didn't live up to that of Krakows.
cheers,
Scott
The first night I was there I went out with a few Aussie blokes from Brisbane. Wouldn't have mentioned if it wasn't for one of the blokes who almost became a surrogate Phroosh. Both played guitar, both liked You am I, both had an unhealthy fascination with cricket and both would have being competing for Timmy Rogers / Brett Kirk look a like of the year. But this bloke really loved horse racing and once that I mentioned that I was friends with Mick Whittles nephew and went on summer holidays to the town that Kerin McEvoy grew up in we spoke for hours (him mostly) about Roman Arch, Melbourne Cups, Equine Flu, the Goldolphin Stable and anything else remotely to do with horses. The pub we went to was also a bit of a corker. Nothing to flash just real laid back, mostly locals and it seems almost every Polish Australian in Warsaw.
The museum I speak of focused on the Warsaw Uprising against the Germans during the Second World War. Really interesting with human accounts, footage, photos and collections of artillery, uniforms and memorabilia. Only it was too popular for its own good and you almost had to wait five minutes to read a commentary or look at a photo.
Warsaw was also the home of the best meal I've eaten since Mum's Crusty Chicken Pie or the Lamb Ragout Dad cooked that time with the Pressure Cooker. It goes by the name of 'Dla gtodniejszych placek dziadka macieja z gulaszem I surowkami podawany' or for the rest of us 'Grandpa Macfej potato pancakes with Beef Goulash and salad'.
The old town ( or rather the reconstruction of the old town) was pretty but didn't live up to that of Krakows.
cheers,
Scott
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