Sir Lindsay will joust for toast

The morning had started out cool, clear, and crisp, only made better by a pleasantly brisk jaunt through Krakow’s morning bustle. Plus, I had spotted not one, not three, but five nun sightings in the last two days, including one at night with two nuns slipping into a building that I immediately concluded to be a secret nun nightclub, featuring drinks like _ and playing the hottest hymns. and there’s little that puts me in a better mood than a nun sightings.[1]

I had a list of things to do, and I’d made a couple of friends on a tour to Auschwitz/Birkenau[2] and the Wieczka Salt Mines.[3] So I hit the Jewish Quarter of the city[4] with the confidence of one who’s already fallen down one flight of stairs and ready for another.

As I was walking into a restaurant for breakfast, already trying to plan out how I’d pace myself so I could eat my way through my list without exploding, I reached up to brush a leaf out of my hair.

Except. It wasn’t a leaf.

The wasp stung me right as I walked past a table of guys a little older than me, so I managed to not scream, although I did do a weird sort of hopping/shimmy/flinch spasm to get the wasp away from me. There were definitely some weird glances thrown my way.

Immediately going into emergency mode, and still with the sense of doom that my travel doctor had instilled in me[5] I started looking up if I could die from a wasp sting, or if I could get an infection and die, or if getting stung made me more vulnerable to something that could kill me. You get the gist. While I’m doing this, one of the servers came up to ask if I was ready to order.[6]

So, convinced I’m about to die from a wasp sting, I did what anyone would do: I whimpered. And then cleared my throat and asked for tea. Once his back was turned, I ripped open my bag and promptly dumped half my water bottle over my finger, which only stopped the pain for about 10 seconds.

I wasn’t granted a reprieve from the PLAGUE of wasps that had hit Krakow after that first sting, no. Throughout my breakfast, I was forced to joust with a cloud of wasps that wanted my breakfast. They had the advantage, having instilled a healthy respect (fear) for them with that first attack, but I was hungry. And spiteful.

The waiters were certainly entertained as I fully dueled with the wasps – there were feints and parries and jabs, all those technical terms. And a lot of under-utilized moves like the squeak and the hiss, and even the desperate flap.

Due in no small part to the ongoing battle and further slowed by the throbbing in my dominant hand, breakfast took over an hour. Which was plenty of time for the whole restaurant to realize that I was providing a free show. So I figured it was time to leave.

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[1] Krakow, Poland’s former capital, is actually known as the city of churches, and has over 120 Roman Catholic churches alone.

[2] I would have done a full post on that trip alone, but honestly I don’t think I could put the right words to Auchwitz and Birkenau.

[3] The salt mines are the COOLEST. The tunnels span over 170 miles and include 4 chapels, an underground lake, chandeliers,  and sculptures, as well as the expected mines and mining necessities. It’s also got dwarves – like Snow White dwarves – just chilling around the mines.

[4] Called Kazimierz, which was home to over 60,000 Jews before WWII and was one of the most highly regarded Jewish communities in Poland. During the Holocaust, many were deported and many others were displaced to Podgorze, a ghetto that was completely isolated from the rest of the city. Only about ten percent of Krakovian Jews survived the Holocaust, and very few returned to Poland.

[5] I was told that I wasn’t allowed to interact with even dogs, in case they had rabies. DOGS. That’s like telling me I’m not allowed to drink water(which he told me I couldn’t do).

[6] Every single server at this restaurant was beautiful – like, they had just come from a runway beautiful.