Cześć from Krakow

Being mistaken for being "from here"- not a problem I’m used to having when traveling overseas, or at least not used to recently. I have come to Poland with a rather strange reality in front of me, I no longer stand out. While it is calming to some extent to be mistaken for a local and no longer ogled at simply for the color of my skin (a privilege I do not always recognize in the place I call my home), it is still surprising. I walk into a bar and people don’t know me by my white skin or my gringa attitude; moreover, they don’t know me at all. While Cracow is a rather small city, it boasts an impressive tourist pull from the rest of Europe, as well as North America, and a sizable population to match for such an old and quaint city. This is a rather great culture shock for me from Anaco, which had less than a dozen westerners residing there, and those who did were predominately oil tycoons. Cracow is a whole different animal. There are diplomatic employees, businessmen, tourists, locals, vagabonds, students, and generally an impressive mezclade of nationalities (with the predominant race being exclusively white). 

Just outside of Krakow stands to this day the death camps that thousands of victims of the Holocaust were persecuted within, Auschwitz and Birchenauw. There is a face of this city that is running full-speed ahead as a young-person mecca with its many universities and language schools, as well as healthy nightlife of bars, restaurants, clubs, and music. There is another face, with a quiet eeriness to it, that lurks in the cobblestone streets and the synagogues- the Jewish culture of this city was robbed over 70 years ago, along with the lives of many Cracovians. I wish that the Polish language were a bit easier to learn, as I would believe I would be able to have some intriguing conversations with people of an older generation- though I can imagine the history here is something  they may not want to make casual conversation about.

On a lighter note,I will say I am extremely glad to be back in a land of beer. There are honey beers, and sweet beers, and lager beers, and dark black ales and stouts. This is a huge change from the Venezuelan beer-tinted beverages that we drank weekly… though we didn’t complain too much, because it was cheaper to buy beer than water. I have tried four different honey beers to this day and they all have been excellent- excellently sweet. 

As I sit at a pizza restaurant with wines on the walls, an eclectic range of art and techno music playing, I remember that while I am not “from here”, I still find this a good place to be right now. Cracow has offered me an opportunity to further explore the world, and the world of education. I have purchased a bike and have been touring the city and the Wisla river trails and am feeling healthy and happy with my move. Venezuela is still in shambles in its economic downturn, and I find it hard to not think about my close friends who still live there and are struggling with the government, with empty grocery shelves, and with insecurity in their day-to-day lives. I am fortunate for what I have, and the security that I have, even if I am not “from here”.