This weekend I left for Warsaw, in a country I had never visited before, accompanied by two French friends from Copenhagen; Baptiste and Arnaud.
We first went to the hotel, intercontinental – probably the best view of Warsaw in town, where I got to walk into my 36th floor room and enjoy the palace of culture in all it’s glory. It is a controversial Russian built building with an architecture that copies many others. It was rebuild alone with nothing else around it after the ravages of the second world war, mostly as a provocation to the USA.
Not caring much for going into politics at that point, I must admit I was awed by the beauty of this sky scraper of neo-gothic appearance that reminded me very much of the Woolworth building in Manhattan.
Warsaw looks surprisingly modern, when one comes from Paris or Copenhagen, where skyscrapers still grow shyly. Apparently this has all appeared in only 10 years.
Baptiste is of Polish descent, and had worked many years doing frequent business in Warsaw, thus building a small network of friends locally. They came to get us at the airport and brought us to the Karmnik bar.
Of course, at that time, it was night and we were not very far off from our first vodka shots.
I first enjoyed my first experience of Pierogi, the polish equivalent to ravioli, as well as some other meat stuffed in a cabbage (the Polish make so many different things from cabbage it made me discover a whole new dimension to the generally boring vegetable).
The food was very nice, and happily prepared the stomach for what was to come. I have to admit that the vodka was very fine tasting and enjoyable to drink even at a pace that matched the local custom.
With the five of Baptiste’s local friends that had joined us for our first drinks, we then headed for the Opera club.
A very classy club, located in what looked like some kind of palace in a clean and Asian inspired decorated underground floors.
We reserved a table in the middle of the club; all my new polish friends ended up so friendly and fun that the five hours we spent there felt like one (I am not saying the vodka did not contribute, somewhat). At 4 in the morning, most of the Polish friends stuck out their telephones to call their wives. Apparently it is relatively normal here for them to be woken up in the middle of the night to fetch their drunk husbands; convenient, I have to admit, if a little unfriendly.
With a short night, we woke up the next morning and had a walk around the neighbouring, modern quarters (as opposed to the old town).
We did our little stop at the Charles de Gaulle square for my patriotic camarades.
We then had lunch in a cosy restaurant made to look like a farm chalet, where we got more tasting of well prepared traditional polish food.
I got a perfectly prepared Barsch (a red beetroot soup with added horseradish, that I shall ask Baptiste to prepare again in the future), as well as a trout prepared in a Jewish Ashkenaz way.
One cannot quite say food ever looks good in Poland, but it is on the other hand surprising how varied it is and tastes with the limited variety of ingredients that are traditionally used.
It does not either tend to be particularly slimming food, but with the -15 Celsius outside, we were not really complaining.
We followed with a visit to the mall (apparently only a couple of years old), which is a beautifully designed glass dune trapped among building like a sand dune would be trapped among short trees.
After all the shopping required to keep our loved ones at home happy, we headed back to the hotel to enjoy the spa on the last floor for another very relaxing and enjoyable moment. Photo courtesy of the hotel website:
After a drink in the hotel lobby, we went out for a few wood-fire cooked pizza which is not that easy to find in Copenhagen actually. We followed with a gaping session at the local salsa club where the common mortal that I am merely chose to enjoy the thought of the next club, where I would be surrounded with people that could dance as poorly as me.
The club in question was called Sheesha, and was an interesting mix of the traditional sheesha bar, and a hiphop club. We relaxed for an hour smoking pipe, to better prepare for the hours that followed on the dance floor. The DJ was surprisingly good at transitioning music of all genres with no deadbeats.
Feeling preemptively sorry for our own selves on the monday that would follow, we decided to cut the evening short around 2am with a restless spirit that could easily have stayed on.
The next morning was, as expected not that easy, although we quite quickly found the trick to make it better: another visit at the spa.
We then explored the old town that had been entirely rebuilt after the second world war. There was nothing left and it had apparently been considered to not rebuild it at all but rather move the capital somewhere else. That being said, it is surprising to see that the authenticity, or lack of, is not easy to spot.
After one look at the old square with its colorful houses, we went in for our last meal, where Arnaud and I got to try the Polish pancake with grated potato in it, topped with smoked salmon. According to Baptiste, they don’t necessarily need to be embedded in fat, but these ones had certainly not been our best bite out in Warsaw.
All in all it has been great fun, with very friendly people (mainly once you know them, I am told), and I am looking forward to my next visit!
Great photos!