Sunday breathing

Yesterday we went for a walk in a new park. It's only new in the "I've lived in Warsaw for almost two years but rarely get this side of the river" sense, rather than actually being at all new.

It was interesting though. It's by the zoo, which may explain this giraffe sculpture/bird nesting area, and everyone was out, making the most of the sun.

We walked back across the river and it really is clear from the bridge how underused the river is as a potentially attractive site.

There are some little islands and sandy areas that could almost be called beaches on the praga side, then the neverending steps and cycle path on the old town side. Apart from the two boat cafes, there's nothing really set up by the river at all.

Once we got back to our side, we wandered through the old town, which is already heaving with tourists. I haven't been for ages, but one thing about the old town is that it never changes, except for the mini building sites that appear at regular intervals.

Thank God winter's over. The green levels in this city are being restored, and we can all start breathing again.

Ooh devil day

I sit at my computer typing, the sunlight falling through the open balcony door. Outside the pansies wait to be planted and the daffs and crocuses sway in the slight breeze. A bird twitters, probably boasting about how much of my heather he (or she) has stuffed into his (or her) nest, and I don't even feel like throwing anything at it. Birds need my heather more than I do.

I go to the sink and start washing up, half listening to the radio that emits a steady stream of this strange language. A woman, a man, a group of laughing people, all speaking with szs and trzs, a stream of what used to be a blur of incomprehensible zeds that has now sorted itself out into recognisable words, and words I might not know, but can identify.

Someone walks through the courtyard and I hear her cough, then a faraway siren cuts through the quiet, reminding me of the city all around. I drain the rest of my tea, check the clock and see that I have to leave for work.

A shame, as there's nowhere I'd rather be right now, but in my Warsaw flat on a sunny morning. Even if it is Friday the 13th.

Bus ride

I checked my watch and swore under my breath. Looking back at the timetable, the empty road and my watch again, it was clear the bus I'd wanted had been and gone two minutes earlier. At that time of night, the next wouldn't be along for another half an hour.

After ten minutes or so, another pulled up, and although it meant a tram ride at the other end, I got on. On the back seats, two men were having a drunken argument. A little further forward, two homeless men were catching up on some sleep. I sat myself in the middle of the bus and looked out the window.

As it was dark and most people were tucked up in their houses, nothing was happening on the streets. As the bus neared the centre of town though, more and more people got on, giving me something to watch. People had been at Christmas parties and late night shopping for gifts.

There was a pattern. Someone would get on and head for the back of the bus, which, apart from the four men, was empty. Then, either a drunken curse would be heard from the very back, or the new passenger would come up against the unwashed odour of the two sleeping men and abandon that plan, heading for the increasingly crowded front and opening a window on the way.

Some people obviously struggled with their emotions before taking up a standing position at the front of the bus, quickly glancing about the back and moving forward without a word. Others were less subtle, wafting the air in front of their nose and screwing up their faces with the stench.

The sleeping men suddenly awoke and raised their heads from their arms. Although one fell asleep again almost immediately, the second, a younger man, stayed awake, and seemed aware that the seats around them were empty. He looked at the crowd in the front and then cast his glance swiftly outside.

The second, bearded man, leaned against the younger man, trying to get comfortable in his sleep. The younger man, obviously not happy with this arrangement, gently shrugged him off, but caught the sleeping man's head in his hands before it hit the seat in front.

For a while they stayed like that, the younger man cradling the bearded man's head as he slept.

My stop was getting closer and the drunken men had traded their last insults and got off the bus. A few people had moved further back, now the drunken brawl was out of sight.

I looked back at the homeless men as I got up from my seat, on my way back to my warm flat when all they had was this draughty vehicle. The bearded man was still asleep, propped on his own arm again. The younger man had his arm around the sleeping man and as I stepped off the bus, I saw his hand was in the sleeping man's pocket, rooting around for anything he could get.