gdansk & tallinn
- Poland. Gdansk. Very pretty, if a facsimile of what was there before the Nazi’s were finished with it. But strangely absent of Poles, I felt. Had a long lovely spot of people watching over some wonderful cafes in the old town. Couldn’t find any shops that were selling Amber. Not one. Odd…
- Dinner at Pod Lososiem in
Gdansk Warsaw. Billed as Traditional Polish, the food was good, the service - well, let’s just say if they were as slow sullen and uncooperative in the 30’s, Europe might still have decent Kosher Delis.
- The moment when the Somellier asked D what he wanted to drink, and received “Do you have a diet coke?” was spectacular. The nostrils flared. The lips pursed. I wondered whether that bulge in his pocket was a corkscrew or a
Vis 9mm pistol. Then, without another word, he spun on his heels, having decided we could live another day, and was gone. Fifteen minutes later, a functionary came over to ask if we had any other drinks orders.
- Polish (and lots of other areas in the tour) housewives and their obsession with bright red hair. No, really. Scarlet. In some cases, the style icon being homaged was less Nicole Kidman, and more Ronald McDonald. Yes, I know that’s not a Polish Housewife. So sue me. I dare you to openly and mockingly snap pictures of these fearsome creatrues and their hideous ‘dos’. They’d tear you apart.
- Making like Robin Hood in the beautiful (no, really, really, beautiful - one of my must go back to’s) old town of
Talinn. Discovering (a) I really like Archery, and (b) I think I could be good at it. The Olympics beckon, methinks…
- The beautiful little barboy at Angel Bar and Gayclub in Talinn, with whom D fell in instant lust, and who proved without a doubt the truth of Bob’s comment that “There are only three international languages: Esperanto, Lurrrve, and Nellie. And that boy’s fluent in at least two.
- Oh, and, of course, The scary Nazi/Stalinist/Orthodox Memorabilia shop, and the fact that we all had to agree that Genocidal Authoritarian Juntae do make some very lovely Jewellery. Then, of course, there’s The kick in the Cock. No, really, it’s called the Kiek in the Kok, and translates as (’Peek into the Kitchen.’ Long story, to do with the fact that the kitchen buildings didn’t have roofs, owing to the tendency for open fires to reduce cities to smouldering rubble if they caught the roofing.)
- Honestly, Tallinn was one of the most beautiful places. Pretty and clean, and with beautiful and very sweet people, and all in all somewhere I want to go back to. Very much recommended.
