Following a very quiet and civilized first night for Hock / Cat standards, dining on fine food and wine on Krakow's Town Square(recovering from our Marines technical error) we did a fantastic bike tour on our first day in the town. The tour of the Old Town, Wawel Castle, Kazimierz (the old Jewish area), the WWII Jewish ghetto and Oscar Schindlers factory was absolutely fantastic, really intersting and at times very moving.
Unfortunately we met four girls on the bike tour we were more than happy to have a polite beer with but really didnt want to be around them all night. What followed was a lesson for Hock and myself and in retrospect pretty funny
. The term a "Michael Klinger" was born as we tried to be ruder and ruder in an effort to ditch the girls. It got ridiculous, Hocks was publicly slamming nuns and the Pope, we were both using the fithiest gutter language you could imagine and yet they continued to cling. Hock took it upon himself to controversially attempt to move them on quicker by pashing one - which surprisingly didnt work. My technique of telling the American to piss off as she attempted to block my work on a couple of locals was a lot more successful. Finally free we continued on for a few more hours of drinks and good times. The night ended waiting for the Krakow trumpeter, who plays the same strange tune every hour on the hour from each of the four windows of the tallest tower of St Mary's cathedral. Considering that our hostel was about 50 metres from the tower and it woke us up all night we were going to tell him about it (and request some Barnsey). Luckily for him (and maybe for us) he failed to play at 4am - the rumours amoungst the locals is that the trumpeters are often too drunk to play at that time. The fall out has been some form of convention deeply probing the M. Klinger phenomenon - identifying any M. Klingers we have already met on this trip and how to deal with this situation.
Following this epic night, action time for operation Munich 2006 came and went as we recovered. Another quiet night in the Krak and then a day of research, maintainence, reading and chess and we are off to Budapest tonight on a train bound for no where.
Krakow is a beautiful city. Unlike Warsaw, which was flattened during WWII, nearly all of Krakow's Old ÍTown remains a timeless piece of history.