Forever in Blue Dziens - Gdansk at Gdawn

Poland's national anthem is named - "Poland Has Not Yet Perished." I'll have to hope that's a shaky translation, otherwise the "yet" is strange and sad.

Woke at first light after a weird night of sound-effect-laden dreams. I heard horns and crowds. This happens sometimes, but usually only when I'm on medication. I'm probably driving myself too hard. But! When am I ever going to be in Gdansk again?

I guess the answer is tomorrow. But, still... maybe it won't be as bright and clear at 5am tomorrow.

Put some clothes on, loaded my ratty camera bag and went out into the cold to see what they call the Old City. I'd read about a statue of Neptune and a medieval crane. Too too tempting, darling.

It was legit cold. My fingers didn't like it. A little bakery had not yet perished, so I went in for coffee and a bread thing.

The first barista was not feeling my "aw, shucks" routine. I really only know how to say "Good morning," "thank you" and "yes." This, plus writing things down for cab drivers, is all you need anywhere in the world.

But not this bakery.

I gave her the old dzien followed by a hearty dobry, but... no smile. It was cold and early. I bounced my finger over the roll I wanted. She looked at me like, "You have to say it to get it. We take customer service here very seriously, and what if I gave you the wrong roll. We have a verification process that involves an oral request. In Polish."

I tried to pronounce the Polish word. No dice. Another girl had to help, and she was happy to help. She spoke English and was fluent in Pointing. I wonder what was up with the other one. Sick of tourists, I guess. 

Like, I get it. Mostly. She was like a lot of grumpy old white dudes back home. 

Dipped out into the ancient streets where a mist was starting to rise. Foggy cobblestones are very beautiful to walk along with a coffee in your hand. As you must know. 

 I really disappear on these walks, lose sense of time and self. I feel like a spectre haunting Europe. 

All my senses stretch out and look for details and I try to put myself in the position of a merchant from five hundred years ago asking a craftsman to carve him a ram on his door and also a dude with a chick on vacation trying to get the best wicker chair at the sidewalk cafe. 

It's a photowalk fugue state. 

Fugued myself to the center square where the fountain awaited. It was... ok. I loved the idea of a powerful port city with Mighty Neptune as their symbol, but he was more like Meh-tune. Ariel's father in his withered dotage. 

He also had a dumb lily pad bolted to his sea cucumber. Let the people see virile Neptune's pride! 

I did like that his trident squirted water from each tine. That seemed like something goofy that would happen at the end of a garbagey fantasy movie. When things seemed lost, Neptune pushed a concealed button in the haft of his trident and soaked the merwolves. 

But! The waterfront was spectacular. Magnificent old ships and proud buildings reflected in the water. Still and brave. I forgot the cold and everything else. In the distance loomed the weird old wooden medieval crane they have here. So fun to think about it dipping down and plucking a crate of "Oriental Cloth" from the deck of a dragoon. 

It kind of looked like a folded up snake puzzle from back when Rubik's Cubes were hot. Like, it was one of the knock-off puzzles. 

Warmed by the shock of beauty, I cobbled back through the old gate and headed for the shipyard. It was a ways away, so I stopped in a hotel for breakfast. Boiled eggs and pickled herring. A good thing I travel solo. 

Wiped the crumbs out of my growth and tip-toed through a market just coming to life. It was warmer now. The red city bricks reflect the sun in a really charming way. The city glows. It helps, I suppose to have the largest brick church in the world. St. Mary's.

(not St. Mary's)

A building had a remarkable mural of "the heavens" painted on the side. Ursa Major and Cassiopeia and that gang. But the shadows of trees made it impossible to photograph. I can't curse the trees, but I wasn't happy with them. If the Lorax had just turned his back for one second, I might have done something. 

Followed the spires to what turned out to be the main train station (Gdansk Glowny). It was a genuine stunner. A marvelous public building. Romantic and stately and functional. I loved it. I'll use it tomorrow to sneak away to Malbork Castle. I winked at its facade and swore to return. 

The Shipyard had an interesting and enormous monument of what looked to be three propellers ringed with anchors. From the scale and presentation, I expected to see Jesus on one of them. But, non est hic. 

Is that a thing? I couldn't recall ever having seen an anchor crucifix. Someone needs to get on that. 

This area is where all the shipyard strikes around the Solidarity era were. I remember that on the news when I was a tween, but I had little to no understanding of it. There was a big museum, and I saw a group of school children being led there and disappear within.

I laughed thinking about the little crippled boy in the Pied Piper story, the one who can't keep up and gets left outside the mountain. What if a student couldn't make it in!?

It was time to go to work. 

Long meetings about top-secret technology, visions of what the product will look like in the future. Will I be a part of it? What can I do to help. I ate an apple while I read the confidential documents. The peel got stuck in my teeth, and I couldn't help but try to fingernail it out. It didn't go unnoticed. 

Later, I had lunch at a depressing little diner. Dry meats in thin sauce that did nothing to hydrate it. The cole slaw was called "Slick Cabbage," which cracked me up. Damn, cabbage, you slick. That cabbage is a fast talker.

Operating at about 70% as a worker here. I'm good in the meetings, and it will payoff in connections later, but the whole + and - nine hours thing is making me goofy. It doesn't help that my main focus is adventure. 

Went home to nap but the sun was piercing. Drifted, but I was awakened by a fight between two women somewhere inside the building. Slamming doors, loud shouting. It was real. I don't speak the language, but I could sense the emotion. One voice was deeper and older, so it was tempting to think of a mother angry with a daughter, but it really could have been anything.

I laughed thinking it was the bread ladies from the bakery this morning fighting over whether or not I should have been given a roll. 

Woke back up and half-worked. Tomorrow is Malbork Castle