What I miss

is the architecture in Krakow.



I even sort of miss the cobblestones (although my ankles don't):

Sklep

This art supply shop is located only a few steps away from my former flat in Krakow. I walked by it almost every day, always peering in the windows to see what was new, yet never actually going inside.

Pansies

I took this pic my last night in Krakow, at the flower market in the Rynek, and completely forgot about it until I downloaded my photos a few days ago.

Buty

I finally downloaded all of the photos I took the last few months I was in Europe and have spent the last few hours looking through them.

This snapshot is for K and P who each bought something like 6 pairs of shoes while visiting me in Poland in early April. Oddly, I don't think I purchased even one pair in the entire two years I lived there.



We found this shoe store in Zamosc, a lovely town in eastern Poland. Not sure how many pairs the Canadians purchased here, but I know it was more than one.

You can go home again

I'm lying on the couch in my newly renovated living room. I've just cleaned it in anticipation of showing it off to my grandmother tomorrow afternoon.

I guess I've been back in Canada now for 6 or 7 weeks and I finally feel like I belong here.

The first few weeks were rough: I was sad and depressed about leaving Krakow and felt completely displaced (for a while I bandied about the phrase relocation dislocation) and at loose ends. I hid out at my friend S's house in Leslieville, working from there most days and leaving the house only to run errands or to go to the gym and to check out the progress on my renovations.

But I've adapted. I'm living in my own house now and the renovations are almost completely finished. I no longer have to spend most of my non-working hours making house or car-related decisions leaving me more time to spend reconnecting with my friends.

Plus, it is summer and despite a strike by the city employees (creating mounds of garbage everywhere and shutting down public services like pools and ferries), Toronto is a pretty good place to be. The trees are green, the flowers are blooming, the sun is shining (well most of the time), and the patios are open.

A part of me will always miss Krakow, but for now I'm home and I'm happy.

Young Poland

Last Saturday, on my flight back to Toronto, I spent a few hours reading about my favourite period in Polish art: the Young Poland movement. The book was a farewell gift from a friend and provides art and architectural examples of the movement in and around Krakow.

Several of my favourite churches, galleries, and buildings were listed in the guide, and I was thoroughly enjoying reading about Krakow, when I turned the page and saw a picture of this guy:



This gargoyle perches on the building I lived in for the past two years. Imagine my surprise to see him featured in a guide to Krakow!

I knew my building was designated as a heritage building (it was the former power plant for Krakow before it was converted into an architect's office and apartments), but I guess I didn't realize how historically significant it really was.

Yep, I lived in a building with a gargoyle. Not many people in Toronto can say that.

Derek and Flannery

Here's the first anecdote of many about Derek:

Soon after I moved to Toronto from Waterloo, Derek was accepted into the publishing program at Centennial College. We ended up being roommates, living in a 2nd floor apartment in an old house on Keele St in High Park.

I've got so many great memories of that year: sitting on the deck gossiping and sharing stories about our lives for hours, both of us being terrified of the huge raccoon that used to live on the roof, laughing at our upstairs neighbour Rocker Dude, hosting cocktail parties that lasted all night (I don't think I've had someone pass out on my kitchen floor since those days), and just hanging out in our pjs watching TV.

That year was also the year I decided I would get a cat. For months before actually adopting the cat, I mused about what I would name her (for it would be a female). I wanted something literary. Perhaps Jane or Margaret after one of my favourite authors. Or maybe named for a fictional character. Possibly Daisy.

Meanwhile, Derek picked out his own name. For him the only possible choice was Flannery. Didn't matter to him that I had never read Flannery O'Connor. He stuck to his guns, referring to my future pet as Flannery in conversation whenever he could. And then he dealt the final blow, telling me (with a sparkle in his eye) that it didn't matter what I decided to call the cat, he would call her Flannery.

The morning we went to the humane society, Derek finally relented, saying that whatever I wanted to call the cat would be fine and he would go along with my choice. I think he secretly knew by that time that he had already indelibly imprinted the name Flannery on my brain.

So Flannery she was, and still is. I can't imagine her as being anything else.

Yet even though Derek gave me a Flannery O'Connor novel (aptly titled "A Good Man is Hard to Find") for Christmas that year, it was years before I could bring myself to read it. What would I do if I didn't like the works of my cat's namesake?

But, as always, Derek's recommendation was sound.

And oh how Derek loved Flannery, always scooping her up for a cuddle whenever he came over and wondering if she remembered that they had lived together all those years ago. Of course she did.

Derek

I'm sitting in Derek's home office, typing this at his desk, surrounded by his CDs and his books, looking at pictures of him and the people he loved, comforted by his cat sleeping a few feet away.

Although I desperately wanted to see Sari, I admit I was a bit apprehensive about staying here until my stuff arrives from Krakow. As long as I was in Poland, I could fool myself into believing Derek was still here. And I knew that there was no way I could keep his death at bay once I came back to Toronto.

But being in his space hasn't induced the grief I was scared of. Just the opposite - I feel much better being here with Sari and am comforted by staying in his house.

And now I realize, I don't have to write one letter or blog entry about Derek and what our years of friendship meant to me. There's no need for one goodbye or one final summing up. I've got so many memories and stories to share. I'll just write them down as I'm ready.

Home

After a long day, I made it home without incident.

Although I fly a lot, it never ceases to amaze me how you can be transported from one side of the world to the other in such a short period of time.

This morning I was thinking about the months-long sea crossings people had to make 100 years ago. Although incredibly difficult and grueling for some, the trip itself gave them time to realize that they were leaving one life behind and starting another in a new world.

14 hours on a plane didn't seem like a long enough time to end one stage of my life and start another.

But, regardless of how long the journey took, the new phase of my life starts today. I wonder what it will bring.

In transit

I'm on my way home, waiting in the Krakow for my first flight of the day. My suitcases are a hell of a lot bigger than this one, and I'm not looking forward to carrying them up the many stairs in my Toronto home.

Wish me a speedy and safe journey.

Saying goodbye

It's 11:00 pm and I'm sitting in the lobby of the Krakow Sheraton reflecting on my last day in Krakow. It is fitting that I'm staying here on my last night in Krakow. It's where I stayed on my first night here, and every other subsequent trip before moving here.

I woke up this morning with a feeling of panic, worrying about how I was going to make it through so many goodbyes today.

But I've made it without sobbing, although I felt like it several times. I walked around the Planty this morning, taking photos every few steps, then met my landlord to go through my beautiful apartment one last time.

And I made it through saying goodbye to 4 floors of people without losing my composure completely, although I teared up the very first time I said goodbye.

Tears threatened again at dinner tonight with my closest friends, but most of the time I just enjoyed their company.

I know I'll miss everything and everyone in Krakow, but I've finally said goodbye.

Note: I'm not ready to say goodbye to this blog. I've got thousands of photos to wade through, and memories associated to everyone, many of which I hope to share with you all. So more posts to come once I am back in my home and native land.

Last night

As I was getting ready to meet a friend for a goodbye drink at my favourite cafe tonight, I realized that this is the last night I'll be staying in my apartment.

I've been extremely privileged to live in this beautiful place for the last two years. Everything about it is lovely: the marble heated floors that the cats (and I) couldn't get enough of, the exposed beams and brick wall, the seven skylights on the top floor, the beautiful (yet terrifying for many) open staircase, the large arched windows, and the loveliest bathroom I'll ever have.

I love all of the views. From one side I can look down at the street life and the action in the neighbourhood jazz bar. From the other I can check out people feeding the pigeons, walking their dogs, or just relaxing in the small park. From that window I can also check out the line up, or the occasional protest, at the nearby embassy. But to get to my favourite view I need to stand on the bidet in the bathroom and open the skylight. I am just tall enough to peek out over the sill and see all of the rooftops. To me, that view is quintessentially European. I feel like an artist in a garret (okay, an extremely lovely, luxurious garret).

The space is large, bright, airy, and stunning. Everyone who enters it stops a few steps in from the doorway and exclaims. A few of my favourite quotes: "It is so beautiful, I think I'm going to cry", "What a grown up apartment" and the most apt for tonight, "Your place at home is nice, but how will you ever leave this one?"

Stage 1

I've been mentally procrastinating about it for months, but I've finally accepted (sort of) that I'm leaving Krakow this week.

I guess I've had to, as the pet mover just picked up Flannery and Small for the first leg of their long journey home to Canada. After much last minute anxiety and stress (changing dates, flights, missing documentation and so on), the cats are on their way to Warsaw by car where they will hopefully catch a flight to Frankfurt tonight. Tomorrow they'll fly from Frankfurt to Toronto, where they will stay in a kennel until we can move into our home. That date all depends on when my stuff arrives from Poland.

Tomorrow morning the movers come to pack up my stuff and transport it to Warsaw. Not sure why all roads to Toronto must go through Warsaw on this trip, but even I am flying through Warsaw on Saturday.

So, I'd better get cracking. I've got a lot to do before the packers show up tomorrow.

Silence

In the early hours of Easter Sunday one of my closest friends passed away suddenly. Since then, I've been trying to make sense of this new world I find myself in.

Although I've written a thousand sentences about Derek and our friendship in my head, I can't bring myself to commit them to a page yet. It hasn't seemed possible to write about anything else until I've done that.

But, as unbelievable as it seems to me right now, life has moved forward. Since that day, I've finished my work assignment in Krakow, had two lovely farewell parties, and spent 4 quiet days in Croatia.

I'll be leaving Poland for good in less than two weeks. For most of April, I desperately wanted to be in Toronto, but now I'm a little terrified to go home. I can't envision that city without Derek.

I've been unable (or just unwilling) to say goodbye the last few weeks. To my friends and colleagues here, to the city and the country I've come to love, and above all to Derek.

I know I'm going to have to, but I just can't. Not yet.

Warsaw

I finally downloaded my pictures from my trip to Warsaw a few weeks ago. Poor Warsaw has a reputation for being grey, and unfortunately the weather was the weekend I was there. I only saw the sun for a few hours in 3 days.

However, the grey skies and the chilly weather didn't dampen my enthusiasm for the Polish capitol. The architecture is extremely diverse - from the old town, which was totally destroyed in WW2 and then rebuilt in the 50s based on 17th century paintings, to the social realist/brutalist style, to modern skyscrapers. The art and design magazine Wallpaper was so impressed with Warsaw that it dedicated an entire travel guide to the city.

Here's a pic of the iconic, yet locally hated, Palace of Science and Culture.



The Palace is a pretty impressive building and can be seen for miles. However, Stalin built it as a gift for the people of Poland, which doesn't make it popular with the locals.

More pics to follow in upcoming posts.

Too good to be true

For the last several months, I've felt like I've been on a roller coaster.

During the first several weeks of 2009 I was focused on trying to stay in Krakow. After I received the final answer that I would be moving back to Canada this spring, I needed to concentrate on the logistics of my move, finding a new position at home, figuring out who would replace me here, and many many other details.

On top of all of that I decided to renovate my home before I return to Toronto, and I turn 40 next weekend.

Frankly, it all is a bit too much for me.

So, imagine my glee when I checked my Canadian bank account last weekend and noticed that I had received a very substantial tax refund.

The euphoria didn't last, as lately I've learned to wait before celebrating any seemingly good news.

Sure enough I got an email yesterday telling me that this wasn't my 2008 tax refund, but some repayment from the government for my dual tax payments in Canada and Poland in 2007. The email stipulated that this money is not for me, and I must promptly send a cheque off to my employer.

Back to that roller coaster . . .

Not so small

As I sit here writing this Small is meowing at my feet, wanting to be fed.

A few weeks ago, in preparation for our upcoming move, I weighed her. She now tips the scales at close to 11 kg - I am not even going to translate that into pounds as the number is appalling large for a cat, no matter how big . . .

When I looked at the paperwork I kept from our move two years ago, she only weighed 9.5 kg.

So, she's on an even stricter diet. Needless to say she doesn't like it. Today I caught her eating the crumby remains of my blueberry muffin.

Glitterati

I finally made it to Warsaw - I figured I shouldn't live in a country for two years without ever visiting the capitol.

I already have much to say about the city and I've been composing this post over dinner, but somehow I have landed in the middle of some swanky Polish celebrity event. I'm literally in the middle of it: the hotel "business center" is actually a desk with a computer in the lobby. I am surrounded by tall, gorgeous women in beautiful frocks and the papparazzi is everywhere.

I'm pretty much blinded by the flashess.

And since I feel a little out of place typing away in my comfy, baggy travel pants in the middle of the party, my impressions of Warsaw will have to wait.

I'm hoping to snag some of the swag they are giving the starlets (Frey Wille bags), but I think they'll realize I'm not with the party.

Stangely there don't seem to be any male stars here.

Coincidence

I was at my book club last night when one of the members told me she'd been reading my blog. I haven't really publicized it, so I was a bit surprised (but very pleased, since she told me she'd read the whole thing!)

Apparently she was searching on Krakow and Benjamin Moore paint (she's decorating a new flat) and she somehow happened on my friend S' blog Apropos of Nothing. S' blog is about her life in Canada and her blog, like her life, is mostly consumed by her house renovation. At some point she must have been discussing Benjamin Moore paint.

From there my book club buddy noticed S' link to my blog about living in Krakow, and she figured out it was me. Funnily enough she lives just across the street from me!

It really is a small world.

Tears

I found out a few weeks ago that I will be going back to Canada in a few months, as was originally scheduled when I moved here in May 2007. For most of the last year I thought I'd be staying in Krakow longer (perhaps a year or two more), which really pleased me, but, as everyone knows, the economic climate has changed since then.

So I'm going home. I cried when I found out and have shed more then a few tears about it since.

It's not that I don't love Toronto and all of my fantastic family and friends in Canada, but I've fallen in love with Krakow, and I'm not quite ready to leave.

The toughest part was telling my team this week. I interviewed and hired all but one of them (currently there are 12), and have watched them all learn and become passionate about our profession. They truly are a great group.

By Wednesday I thought I was prepared for it, but as I started to tell them, the tears started again and I had to stop and compose myself.

But I got through it, and now I am concentrating on all of the things I need to see and do in Poland and at work in the next two months (believe me there's still a long list and I haven't even gotten to my European list yet).

And, as my mother keeps reminding me, I have had a fantastic two years here. I'm not quite ready to summarize it all yet - there will be more then enough time for that when I'm back in Toronto.

Chim chim cher-oo

The other morning, on the way to my early morning tennis lesson (7am!), I noticed two men dressed entirely in black. On their heads they wore small black caps, and over their shoulders carried long coils of cable.

I realized they were chimney sweeps. Their outfits reminded me of the illustrations in one of my favourite childhood novels, The Water Babies.

Although Krakow is in many ways a modern and westernized city, small details like the chimney sweeps in their Victorian era uniforms remind me daily that this is a very different place, with a much stronger sense of history and tradition, then where I'm from.

The sweeps I've had in to work on my chimney in Toronto wore blue jeans and white coveralls. Not nearly the same effect.

If only I'd had my camera with me.

Note: The wikipedia article linked to above mentions that sweeps in Croatia still wear the traditional dress with the small black caps. I should write in to append that they do in Poland as well. Note that the sweeps in Krakow were not wearing the extremely odd headress-like hat that is in the accompanying picture.

March fool

When I returned to Krakow from Canada March 2nd the weather here was positively balmy, at least compared to Toronto which hit -25 the day I left. Somehow I convinced myself that spring had sprung.

I wasn't the only one. The restaurant and cafe owners in the Rynek put out their tables, umbrellas and chairs March 1st, ready for the spring/summer tourist traffic to appear.

Since then it has snowed at least 3 times.

Family

My grandma has three children (all daughters), ten grandchildren, and fourteen (I think) great-grandchildren. In honour of her 90th birthday, many of us met in Toronto yesterday to celebrate.

Not all of us were at the party, but it was the largest gathering of the clan that I can remember. My entire immediate family (parents, two brothers, two sis-in-laws and 4 nieces) flew in from Western Canada for the festivities.

Seeing the four generations of our family in one room was fantastic: Grandma's smile was ear to ear for most of the day. Watching the tribe of great-grandchildren roar around the hall together was even better.

It took me 24 hours to get here for the party, and my luggage didn't arrive until after it was over, but I'd do it all again in a minute.

Happy Birthday Grandma!

Winter travel: Part 2

I'm in Toronto right now. It is 5:37 am and I've been wide awake for an hour thanks to jet lag.

I arrived here around 11 pm (Toronto time) Friday night after a very long and frustrating travel day.

My trip started off well enough Friday morning. I got up sometime around 6 am, the taxi arrived promptly at 7 and I made it to the airport and checked in without incident. I did note as I left the house that it was snowing, but that didn't worry me.

It should have.

After I checked in the clerk mentioned that my flight was about 15 minutes late arriving. Three hours later I finally boarded the bus to take me to my first flight to Munich. Apparently a snowstorm in Munich had slowed all traffic in and out of that airport, so I had hopes that my Canadian flight, which was supposed to leave shortly after I finally left Krakow, would be delayed long enough for me to make it.

No such luck. It left one minute before I arrived in Munich.

Then I was rerouted to Frankfurt to wait for another flight to Toronto. I boarded that flight on time, but it ended up leaving an hour or so late because of various difficulties, my favourite being the plane parked behind ours, which meant we couldn't back away from the gate.

Finally 20 some odd hours after leaving my home in Krakow, I arrived in Toronto, only to discover that my luggage hadn't.

Thirty-some hours later it still hasn't appeared. I just checked the baggage tracer online and the status is still showing as tracing in progress, which means they don't know where my bags are. When I called to check on them yesterday, the clerk told me that they had located one of my bags and it would arrive tonight (48 hours after me), but that they didn't know where the other one was yet.

And, somehow while sitting on the plane, I managed to rip the knee out of the only pair of pants I now have.

Ain't air travel grand?

4 weekends, 3 countries

After a relatively travel free January (I only left Krakow for a few day trips to ski), I've got the traveling bug again.

I spent the first weekend in February skiing in Austria, the second shopping for Polish pottery in a town near Wroclaw, and will spend the final two weekends of the month with family and friends in Toronto.

Let it snow!

I made it home safely today, on clear roads until about 50 km outside of Krakow. Snow started to pile up on the roads then and it started to snow.

It is snowing lightly now and the forecast says more snow for the rest of the week. But I don't have any road trips planned between now and Friday, so I'm happy with more of the white stuff, just as long as it stops snowing long enough for my plane to take off Friday morning. . .

How much of the white stuff should I expect in Toronto next weekend?

Winter

My first two experiences of Polish winter were disappointing. The temperatures for the two weeks I spent here in February 2007 were all well above freezing, and last winter we barely had any snow after November. Thus I was pleasantly suprised this year when Krakow had snow for most of January, and even happier when the mercury dipped to nearly -20 one day. Yeah, I know you all think I'm crazy, but I grew up in Edmonton, and we pride ourselves on our cold winters.

Plus, I just like snow.

Or at least I thought I did.

I've only been on two roadtrips in Poland this winter: the first one in December with my parents to Krynica, and the second one this weekend to Wroclaw and Boleslawiec with some friends.

On the first trip in December I had to drive through the mountains in blowing snow for nearly 5 hours to reach a town that is normally a short 2 hour drive away.

Yesterday, it started to snow early in the morning, and kept up all day, snowing particularly hard when we left around 4:30. Snow was piled up on the highway, and I constantly used my windshield wipers. But when we reached Wroclaw around 8 pm the snow had stopped and the town was bare.

However, when I woke up this morning at 7 am to drive to Boleslawiec (a town that is all about pottery), sure enough, snow had accumulated over night and was still falling.

And it continued to fall throughout the drive there, the entire day, and the drive back. We witnessed several cars in the ditch and one big pile up, but made it there and back safely.

As soon as we got out of the car, the snow stopped falling.

I am just waiting for it to start again tomorrow around 2 pm when I plan to head home.

Tree update

One final note about my Christmas tree . . .

After asking several Poles what to do with my tree, and receiving answers like, "chop it up and use it for firewood", "I don't know", and "I plant mine" (it was live), I finally took one friend's advice to sneak it into the garbage area in the courtyard in my building. He told me to make sure no one saw me do it. Easier said then done when the object you are carrying is an 11 foot Christmas tree.

So with the help of another friend, I took the tree to the garbage area under the cover of darkness. Luckily we didn't encounter anyone as we maneuvered the tree down 66 steps, but my luck ran out when I tried to put it in the garbage shed. The tree was far too big to go in and blocked the door when we tried to lean it against the nearby wall. In the next location we tried, it blocked the neighbour's clothesline.

Finally, somewhat desperately, we just dumped it in a pile of snow against one wall and took off.

I then spent the next 40 minutes sweeping up all the fallen needles, so the trail couldn't be tracked to my door. I did consider creating a trail to another neighbour's door, but figured since everyone else keeps their tree up until the end of January, it was going to be pretty easy to realize the Canadian was the culprit.

Happily, I noticed that the tree was finally gone this weekend. I'm not sure if the garbage men took it, or someone else chopped it up for wood, but it's no longer in the courtyard.

Click, click, click

Life's been keeping me busy lately. January is performance review time at work and I've spent many hours the past few weeks writing and delivering assessments to my team. Plus, I seem to have had more social engagements this month then I have had in the past 3 months combined. I've also been getting out and enjoying the snow (skiing!) while it lasts.

But I realized the other day that this blog isn't the only thing I've been neglecting. Poor Flan's claws are so long that she can no longer sneak up on anyone, which is imperative for most cats (when I say most cats, I do not include Small. It is hard to imagine 10 kg Small sneaking anywhere). Instead the click, click, click of her claws on the hardwood and marble floor announces Flan's presence far in advance.

I'm happy to report she's back to her stealthy self today. Small, consider yourself warned.

Choinka

Although the Poles keep their Christmas trees (choinka) up until the end of January, I'm going to start the process of dismantling mine today. The branches started to droop a few days ago, so much so that the lower ones are now resting on the floor. The tree is looking a bit sad.

However, it was a glorious tree in it's earlier days. At over 10 feet tall it just fit into the corner of my apartment. I've never had a tree this big, and am probably unlikely to have one this tall again. You can get an idea of the height of it from this pic, with my dad on the stairs in the background for perspective.



Decorating such a tall tree was a bit of challenge. I stood on chairs, a ladder, and the windowsill, before Dad suggested moving the tree over to the stairs to decorate the top. Then I ended up buying an angel for the tree the day after I finished decorating the rest of it, so we had to use Dad's trick again to get her on top.

I went on a bit of an ornament buying binge in December (but what else does one go to Christmas markets for?) Here are a few of my favourites:



I bought this fairy in the Christmas market in Dusseldorf. Somehow I thought she was unique, so I was a bit irritated when I saw her featured on a website for a home decor shop here in Krakow. Oh well, I still love her.

My mom bought these two, as well as a few hot pink sparkly ones, at the local food (and everything else) market. I thought she was crazy at first, but the striped ones looked fantastic on the tree, and even the hot pink sparkly ones grew on me.










These straw ornaments seem to be quite typically Polish, as we saw them on trees all over Krakow.
















Even after Christmas, I couldn't stop buying ornaments. I found these two last Sunday in a small town about 20 km from Krakow. They were in a flower store, which was the only store in town open that day.











These two are pottery, and are made in the southwestern corner of Poland. This pottery is extremely popular in Krakow, and I hope to purchase some dishes in one of the patterns to bring home with me.











Here's one final look at the dressed tree:



Now I just have to figure out how to get it down the three flights of stairs.

Gingerbread

Gingerbread is a big deal in our household. As children, we always made gingerbread men both to eat and to hang on the tree. As we got a little older, gingerbread cake became our traditional dessert for the big turkey meals of Christmas and Thanksgiving.

At least one of my writers made a ginger cake for Christmas, so I knew it existed in Poland. I wasn't quite prepared for my mother's gingerbread quest though. It started when she saw gingerbread cookies being used as decorations in the hotel we stayed in in Krynica, and continued through lunch in Nowy Sacz, where gingerbread was decorating a wreath hanging from the ceiling.

Somehow we ended up with two different types of gingerbread cookies, and three gingerbread cakes. But even with all of that gingerbread in the house, I couldn't resist purchasing this gingerbread fish (yes, fish) when I saw it.



Mom declared it her favourite of all the gingerbread items, particularly after she whipped up some cream to go with it.

I have to agree - I've just polished off the tail.

Christmas in Krakow

Christmas in Krakow was everything I had hoped it would be. My parents and I started our celebrations with a lovely walk through the very empty old town. I've never seen the Rynek so quiet.



After wandering around snapping pictures of the many Christmas decorations, we ended up at a local hotel, eating a traditional Polish Wigilia dinner. And yes, it was 12 courses (10 full courses, with beverages and bread taking it up the required 12 dishes). Here's dish number 5.



Luckily for me, 4 or 5 of the courses were fish, which I don't eat, so I had room for the dessert course, which was actually three dishes: gingerbread, compote, and some kind of fruit cake.



I should mention that both of my parents made it through all 12 courses. I really don't know how they did it, as I was full just from my paltry 6 or 7.

After dinner, we walked (waddled really), over to the yard of the Franscican church for what turned out to be my favourite moment of the evening. We stood amongst the crowd watching the live nativity play, complete with donkeys, goats, lamas, and sheep. Several times during the play, the audience spontaneously joined in the hymn and carol singing, filling the night air with ancient songs.

Families were wandering around the site, warming their hands at bonfires, while children joyously tried to pet the donkeys and lamas, who were really more interested in munching hay.

Around 11 pm we went into the Franciscan church to view the nativity scene inside. Enchanted by that display I decided we should visit another one in a church a few minutes away, before heading to midnight mass. As we walked through the Rynek this time it was alive with people on their way to mass or just enjoying the atmosphere with friends.

After visiting the 2nd nativity scene, we made our way back to a third church for the mass, but unfortunately the church was full. No worries I assured my parents since there are dozens of churches in the old town. However we left it a little too late, because even though we tried 4 more churches as my father quipped "there was no room at the church."

No matter, the whole evening was lovely, and more than just a little bit magical.