Home Is Where The Luggage Is

By Josephine Swanson

"So where did you go?"
"Psh," I scoffed, "Where didn't I go?"
Join three friends as they head off on a once in a lifetime trip, traveling across Poland for 4 weeks. Come for the sarcasm, wit and near-death experiences, if for nothing else.
Based on a true story.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Jun 26, 2014
• ISBN: 9781483538655

Book preview

it

Prologue

The house lights started to dim as the request to turn off all cell phones played. Thank God I was not onstage - it sounded like a big crowd out there. The announcement faded out as I reached forward to turn my light on, moving the flute and piccolo to my lap at the same time. The conductor raised his baton; everyone responded by putting their instruments in a playing position. The conductor lowered his baton, and we were off. The Overture to Shrek the Musical swelled around me as I flew into my piccolo runs. First run, I thought. Now second.... Trill .... trill, and off. The guitar took over for a bit, leading into the first song with a voice over from Shrek himself.

Pst. I jumped maybe six feet in the air, before looking to my left, where the sound came from.

What? I hissed, as I noticed my friend Theresa appear out of seemingly thin air.

Have you packed?

What? I asked as the Overture segued into Big Bright Beautiful World.

Have you packed? she repeated, adding We leave tomorrow, or did you forget?

Tomorrow!?

What do you mean tomorrow? I hissed, keeping track of where we were.

Honestly, Amelia. We leave tomorrow for Poland!

Listen, I said, fearing I might miss my big solo, find me at intermission, we can talk then.

Not even hearing her reply, I let the music wash over me as I picked up the piccolo and waited for my solo. With my vocal cue over, it was 2, 3 and I was in, diving with the music as the musical drove on.

***

The house lights came up as the curtain came down. The trumpet guy and trombone guy left with the guitar girl and drums guy as I looked to Natasha, who was playing Reed 2. I unclipped my sax from my neck as I exclaimed We’re already at intermission?

She looked over at me, her grey eyes somewhat annoyed. Yup, she nodded, Did you hear that squeak? Stupid sax reed! Ugh!

Very impressive, I teased as I stood up to stretch. 20 minutes for intermission?

Yea. I’m heading off to the bathroom before there’s a line! Natasha exclaimed, practically sprinting out the door.

I shook my head, laughing to myself, as I headed out the door. I got to the hallway, and at the end stood the tall brunette woman who I was looking for.

Okay, fill me in! I exclaimed as I headed up the hallway, startling Theresa from her thoughts.

Fill you in? She asked as I approached.

Yea, what do I need to pack?

Pack for all types of weather. Who knows what we’ll be dealing with! Theresa exclaimed as I pushed an escaped copper curl of mine behind my ear.

Plane leaves at what time?

Oh Amelia! Here, I wrote it all down while I was waiting. I figured you’d forget if I just told you because you’re so scatterbrained! Departure time, what you need, etc.

Thanks for all the confidence you have in me!

It’s true, Theresa said indignantly.

I know, I agreed, so I’ll see you tomorrow at - I quickly glanced at the sheet of paper in my hand, '2 hours prior to boarding at 10’, so 8?

Alright. Get a good night’s sleep!

We parted, and I headed back to the pit to work on my piccolo part in ‘Ballad of Farquaad’ for about 10 minutes before intermission ended. I had been practicing for no more than five minutes when someone appeared to look over the barrier that separates the band from the audience. He appeared no more than 13 and reminded me of when I would spend time just watching the musicians at intermission. I smiled at him before returning to my music. I was coming onto the most challenging run in the piece when I heard a soft Excuse me... I looked up, piccolo still on my lips, and saw a woman next to the boy. I nodded for her to continue.

I couldn’t help overhear your playing just now, so I came over. You play four instruments here, but you have to have one that’s the strongest she said, her voice fairly plain.

Alto sax. I’ve been playing since grade 7. But I plan on eventually being a music teacher, so I have to learn all the instruments anyway. I shrugged.

See William? You keep playing and you can one day be as good as this young lady here! He was just curious about how the orchestra sat.

I nodded politely, not really interested. I was more keen on running through, and was very glad when I heard people coming back in. Natasha came in and sat beside me.

I just noticed you’re wearing a green bow tie. Nice touch. She commented.

Thanks. Do you know how hard it is to find a black blouse with a collar? Very! I exclaimed as I reattached Steve, my sax, to the neck strap before the Entr’acte.

The lights eventually dimmed, and as I started off the music, I felt the familiar rush of excitement as I plunged into the world of music (and Shrek too, I suppose).

***

Well I have to say that for a community production, that was pretty good. The band was definitely the best! Alan laughed arrogantly to Ava as the two violinists walked by.

Night. Ava said.

Night, I replied.

I packed up my piccolo and flute fairly quickly. I owned all four instruments (clarinet included), as I had calculated (very slowly and very painfully) it would be better just to buy the damn flute and piccolo. Disassembling the sax and the clarinet took longer, but I was done before the auditorium fell silent.

Night guys. Thanks for a great run. See you all next year! Phil, our unofficial conductor, called from his seat at the piano.

Bye Phil. I called, echoing a few others.

I whipped out the dolly I used to transport all four instruments to the car. Finishing clearing my area, I pushed the fully loaded dolly out the door to the corridor and eventually out the exit.

Mermaid in the middle of the Old Town, Warsaw (Photo: J. Swanson, June 15, 2013)

Statue of Chopin, Park Lazienkowski. (Photo: J. Swanson, June 16, 2013)

Palac Wilanówski. (Photo: J. Swanson, June 16, 2013)

Peacock at Park Lazienkowski . (Photo: J. Swanson, June 16, 2013)

Warsaw

Am I late? I cried as I greeted Theresa and her brother Paul at the airport.

Nope. The line barely moved since we got here. Normally we’d be checked in by now. Paul said in lieu of greeting.

You have two luggages?! Theresa exclaimed as I hauled my stuff into the line.

Yea; I figure I may as well bring one for souvenirs, so I’m using one as a carry on, one as my purse, and one as my regular suitcase. I replied as the people in front of us moved a few steps up.

We didn’t really say much after that for about half an hour as we slowly moved.

When we reached the actual cordoned off area, a worker for Lot walked by, saying something in Polish.

What’d she say? I demanded to Theresa.

She shrugged. No idea.

As the woman moved down the line, certain groups of people moved out of the line into a special lane. The common factor with all the groups of people was that they all had small kids.

How fair is that? I cried, as this realization came over me. I’ll tell you - so not fair!

In case you haven’t clued in yet, Amelia, Paul said in a condescending manner reminiscent of Severus Snape, Life isn’t fair.

Don’t talk to me about fairness, Paul, I said somewhat feistily, because as a musician, I know all about this concept of 'fair'.

Guys! Theresa exclaimed, obviously trying to stop us from fighting, Relax!

Trying to lighten the mood, I turned to Theresa and asked Did they say anything about groups with a pair of siblings and a musical student major?

Nope. Paul deadpanned, essentially closing the conversation topic.

It took us another half hour to get to the check-in counter. When they finally called us, it was 21:20, an hour after I had arrived and an hour and a half after Theresa and Paul arrived.

Our baggage went into the plane, and we headed towards security.

Well, Theresa said, At least we don’t have to wait long at the gate.

True. I agreed as we got in the security line.

Five minutes later, all three of us were cleared through security.

Well, that backfired. I commented as we headed off to try and find our gate.

How? Paul asked.

Now we have to sit and wait.

***

Something poked my shoulder.

Amelia. A voice said.

Uh. I groaned in reply, relishing the safety of the darkness.

We’re landing.

Instantly, my eyes shot open. We’re here? I asked with hardly concealed excitement.

Theresa nodded, her brunette hair ruffled with sleep.

We landed safely, and due to some medical emergency I slept through, we landed away from the terminal and had to be bussed in.

So this is Poland. I said as we stood on the stairs descending from the plane. There was an open field that led to a fence. Beyond that fence, there was just grass which eventually led to a forest. I assumed the city was behind that forest.

Yes, Theresa said, prodding me to go down the stairs, this is Poland.

More specifically, Paul shouted over the gusting wind as we walked to the bus, This is the Frederyka Chopina Airport in Warsaw.

Haha, I said sarcastically as we got on.

Paul dragged us through the crowd to a fairly empty customs guard once we were off the bus. I was a bit concerned they wouldn’t recognize me as me due to the fact my hair had poofed up like Einstein’s, but they waved me through.

Theresa and I trotted - yes, trotted - after Paul to the baggage claim. I grabbed my heavy, old brown suitcase as Theresa and Paul grabbed their new Heys luggages.

Wow. I said, a little jealous of the fact they could afford newer, lighter luggages, while I was stuck with my old piece of shit.

What? Theresa asked as we wound our way out to the arrivals area.

No, nothing.

Paul lead us past the huge crowd at arrivals. We stopped in front of one of many front doors.

I should go pay for the car now. Paul said to Theresa.

If you think so. Theresa replied, fiddling with a bag.

Paul didn’t bother replying before grabbing his luggage and heading out the front door. We trailed behind him as he asked which bus would take us to the Polonia Palace Hotel. Once he got that, he continued on towards the bus stop. We trotted behind him for a while before he stopped in front of a door.

I’m going in to look for a car. Paul stated before telling us to stay here and walked back into the airport.

I don’t know how long we stood there, but all I know was that my first impression of Poland was that everyone smoked. However long we stood there was painful for my lungs with the amount of second-hand smoke I inhaled. When Paul came out, we headed toward the bus (two of which had come by while we were waiting). Paul bought us tickets, no matter how much I protested that I would buy them. His gruff reply of you haven’t changed money yet was true, and since I had no argument, effectively shut me up. Once we were on the bus, Paul enlightened us with news that he had made a great bargain from that place from last time and as soon as possible needed to contact them about the pickup location for the rental car. When we got to the right stop, Paul nodded to me and I opened the doors for us to exit. With the way the busses are in Poland, you have to push a button for a door to open to get on or off. As the bus drove off, I tried to get my bearings.

The first thing I looked for was the street name. Not finding that in clear sight, I relied on the fact that Paul was Polish and should know where he was.

What number are we looking for? I asked Theresa.

44. she replied.

Let’s head that way, I said pointing to my left, and see how the numbers go.

I set off, Paul and Theresa trailing me as we looked for street numbers. Finally, I saw a 33.

We just passed 36. Paul said, And 33 is over here, so we have to go back. He sounded annoyed as we turned and walked back the way we came. Then we came to a streetlight that had no crossing.

How do we cross? I asked.

We go underground. Theresa said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

I followed very sceptically as Theresa and her brunet brother headed off for a set of stairs that seemingly lead nowhere.

Well boy was I wrong.

Turns out that under the street, lay a whole other city. Okay, I’m exaggerating. It’s not a city, but it’s worth noting. As I headed down the stairs and my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I was instantly reminded of the PATH in Toronto. Small shops lined the corridors which people took daily as a part of travels. Signs on the ceiling showed which direction you had to go if you wanted a certain street.

Since we just needed to cross only once, we headed straight.

This is brilliant! I exclaimed. Vendors make some money and the pedestrians are safer!

We emerged at the other end of the tunnel at the bottom of the next set of stairs. On my right side, there was a yellow rod that looked like it could fit a person between it and the wall.

What’s that for? I asked.

Bikers. Theresa said.

Okay, that made sense. The biker would put the bike on the rail and would have an easier time moving the bike up and down the stairs. We hauled our luggage up the stairs and immediately in front of us was a store. Traffic rushed by as we ambled past the store in front of a beige building which had flags on it.

This is it? I asked in awe.

The sign on the door that read Polonia Palace Hotel confirmed my question. The three of us walked through the doorway, following the red carpet which took us to the lobby. Paul strolled over to the reception desk, leaving his luggage with me as he dragged Theresa with him. The lobby had fake trees all around for added colour; the ceiling was glass and the sky was clearly visible through it. The red carpet we had followed led to a large red square carpet in the middle which had various chairs and couches around it.

On the wall opposite from which we came in was the reception desk; along that same entrance seemed to be stairs to my right when I was facing it. To the left of the entrance was a small hallway, and a bar entrance while the wall to my left held entrance to what seemed like the breakfast room, and the main entrance to the hotel. Above the reception were three clocks with New York, Warsaw, and Tokyo time; above those were windows. There was a group of people siting and talking in a strange language.

Thinking it might be French, I tried eavesdropping. I was so focused I jumped when Theresa tapped me and sent me after Paul. I followed him into the small hallway and discovered that there were two elevators. The three of us stood awkwardly as we waited for the elevator to come.

What floor? I asked trying to get conversation started.

Third. Room 330. Paul replied as the door opened with a cheerful ’Ding!’. We fitted ourselves into the elevator quite comfortably and stood in silence as it went up.

Paul opened the door for us when we got to the room. For me, the location couldn’t have been more perfect; all we had to do was step out of the room and we could go down the stairs.

The room itself was perfect for three people. The bathroom was immediately to the left and there were closets and safes to the right behind polished mahogany doors. There was a small hallway that lead to the larger room where the bed was. The bed was to the left of the small hallway; across from it were three windows and to the right of the small hallway was a credenza with a matching wood desk and a TV.

Yes! TV! Paul exclaimed, as Theresa dropped her luggage and ran for the bathroom. It was then that we discovered to get the lights to work you had to keep a hotel card in the allotted slot at all times. I sat down on the bed as Paul turned the TV on and I rooted around in my backpack looking for the brush.

Where did I put that damn thing?! I muttered quietly to myself as I kept looking. Panic started to set in when I couldn’t find it. I remember putting it in! I put it in! I know I did! I wailed.

Theresa stepped out of the bathroom looking fresh. What do you know you did? she asked.

My brush. I know I put it in here!

Did you check your toiletries bag?

But I didn’t put it in there! I distinctly remember putting it in to my bag!

Which one? Paul drawled.

What do you mean 'Which one?’ I snapped, There’s only ... Oh. Which one.

I rooted through my carry-on suitcase, feeling for a brush-like object. I felt something, grabbed it and pulled it out.

Score! I cried, all frustration and anger instantly gone. So. I said after I finally got my hair under control, (now, at least, I no longer looked like a hobo) where to now?

Our first stop after checking-in to the hotel was the Kantor. The Kantor, or as you English speaking people know it, Exchange, currently had a buying rate of 3.08 złoty for one Canadian dollar. Well, at least the one on the same block as our hotel did. Then, a half a block away from the Kantor was an alcohol shop, which got Paul very excited because apparently he waited for Polish beer.

Let’s head to the Stare Miasto (Read: Sta-ry Mi-AS-to) and see what’s to see there. Theresa suggested as we wandered through the newly dubbed ’Polish PATH’.

Stare Miasto? I asked slowly, letting the words play on my tongue, What’s that?

Old City. Paul said as he guided us down the street.

The buildings we passed were not as modern as the ones in Toronto, but they served the same purpose: office buildings. We reached the corner of one street and to the right loomed a large modern looking building which happened to be a shopping centre. Up ahead on the left side of the street, I spotted a fake palm tree. Thinking it was some sort of monument, I inquired about it.

No idea. That’s actually really strange.. Theresa mused as we crossed the street (sadly above ground this time) heading towards the left side. Hey Paul, what’s that fancy tree about in front of us?

No idea. And since we’re not going that way, I really don’t care.

Well, Theresa whispered to me, I don’t really care either, but you don’t see me being rude about it.

We meandered up the street, admiring the architecture and stopping every so often for a picture with a statue or of a house. Eventually, after much meandering, we arrived at the centre of the Stare Miasto. There was a castle of some sort, with a large square, which had a fountain in it. The castle was surrounded by smaller buildings; however, they had left enough space around the castle that there was a sufficiently large square. Behind the castle, the Wisła river floated along, winding its way towards the new town.

Wow.. I said in awe, this is incredible.

They rebuilt it beautifully after the war. Theresa commented as we headed down the small slope past the castle thing.

Rebuilt? I asked.

Yea, Theresa replied, Bloody Germans completely flattened this town during WWII.

Oh, I said as I stood on a wall-ish thing that let me get a great picture of one of the small narrow streets from the 14th century while Paul slipped off to find a bathroom.

When Paul came back, we all headed up the small street. Out of nowhere, a knight came and challenged Paul to a duel.

Paul’s eyes lit up like a kid at Christmas as he told the knight that he could not accept the duel as he had no sword (at least, that’s what Theresa translated for me). The knight advanced, and then pretended he had Paul captured. I took a picture as the knight pretended to hold Paul ransom to passing people. Then the knight spotted me and released Paul to Theresa. He grabbed my hand and pulled me to him as he kissed it. Theresa snapped a picture and the knight let me go.

They had a conversation which Theresa later translated as him basically saying he deserved the change Paul gave him. We wandered off, heading down a side street and eventually our meandering led us to a monument in the middle of a park. It turns out this monument wasn’t a monument, but the tomb of an unknown soldier. Surrounding his grave were six pillars, each dedicated to all the various battles and where they were fought.

There, Theresa said, pointing to a name ’Jordanów’, That’s where we’re gonna stay later.

Cool! So is it a big city like this? I asked.

Heavens, no! It’s a small community! Theresa said as I started wandering towards a statue on the other side of the park.

We travelled in silence - as I record this now it dawns on me we often did. It was never an awkward silence, it was always a contented, comfortable silence. So anyway, we travelled to the statue in silence. I have no idea who that statue was of, but I took pictures anyway.

We were crossing the street when three soldiers headed our way.

Look! Paul exclaimed, They’re going to change the guard! Maybe we should go watch! He excitedly suggested, looking hopefully at Theresa.

Theresa looked at me.

I’ve already seen a changing of the guard - in London, outside Buckingham Palace. I hastily said as I led them back to the main drag of the Stare Miasto.

Paul took over from there, something I was greatly relieved about, as I had no idea where we were going. He took us down the street, back the way we entered the Stare Miasto to a restaurant he had spotted.

I didn’t realize I was this hungry till we got here! I exclaimed as I sat down, stripping my backpack off my back.

Same. Theresa agreed as we got our menus.

Witamy. Co państwu podać? the waiter asked.

I looked at Theresa.

What do you want to drink and eat? she asked.

I glanced through the drink menu and ordered Nestea, no ice of course. And that chicken in mead sauce sounds divine, so I’ll take that too.

Theresa translated that for me, something which I was greatly appreciative of. The waiter nodded and headed off, leaving the three of us in silence, yet again.

We sat like that until he returned with our food.

Upon our completion of dinner (which ended with Paul having a long conversation with the restaurant owner), we headed down to wander along the Wisła River. There was a mermaid – the symbol of Warsaw – that was currently under reconstruction, and there were a few figurines of sheep grazing along the hill. It was here along the banks of the river where we discovered the ugliest building known to man.

What is that? Theresa asked, her voice oozing disgust.

As she was ahead of me at the top of the small hill we were climbing, I intelligently said, What? Then, of course, because I was still climbing, I eventually saw what she saw. EW. I said.

I’m not going to scar you beautiful people for life by describing that building. But if you want to get the general gist of how ugly it was, take the ugliest thing you’ve ever seen, and give it a more square shape, while tweaking the edges to make them not completely straight. Then multiply the ugliness factor by about 3 and add a suitcase of ugly. Then forget what you’re imagining because what you’re thinking is nowhere nearly as ugly as what we saw.

Trying to push away the image, the three of us hurried away from the building and headed back to the hotel, going through the Stare Maisto once again.

***

I forgot to charge the batteries! I exclaimed frantically as I pushed the batteries into a wall socket, before I was shoved out the door.

Too bad, Paul said gruffly as we headed to the Pałac Kultury. We didn’t do much, we went up, took a couple of pictures, and went back down. Luckily we went down when we did, for my camera was dying.

To be honest, I sulked after that.

Stop sulking over your camera batteries, Amelia. Theresa huffed, rolling her eyes as Paul lead us down some street.

You don’t understand! I cried as we crossed the street, This is a once in a lifetime trip and I need to document every moment!

Stop being so dramatic. Seriously, if you weren’t so good in orchestra, I’d tell you to drop your day job and become an actress.

Ha ha. I muttered as Paul caught the perfect time to cross the street and he dragged us across to the middle of a roundabout (rondo) where a white church with a soaring light blue dome stood.

Why aren’t we going in? I hissed to Theresa.

Sunday mass.

As if that explained anything.

Well, the real reason we couldn’t get in was because we were at the back of the church. We headed along the rondo, and as we got to the front, Theresa pointed something out to me.

LOOK! she whispered, It’s Burberry!

So? I asked. I found it funny that I, the artiste of the group, did not care about clothes, while Theresa, the scientist of the group, bowed down to the big brand names on a weekly basis.

I had no idea they had an office in Warsaw!

So? I blinked, sounding very bored, as the two of us headed up the steps to the main entrance of the church.

There were so many people for this particular mass that I didn’t even try to look at the amazing altar this church had. I mean, the people were lining up out the door, so why would they move for a petite girl like me?

We headed off, and walked for a while down a street whose name I don’t know (because they really have signing issues in this city). What was so impressive about this particular street was that the sidewalk was divided into two parts, one for cyclists and the other for pedestrians.

This is what Toronto should have! Paul exclaimed, as he turned left off the main street and we headed through a path of Linden trees.

I’m going to take a moment to fill you guys in - in the event that I have the wrong name of the tree or something. A linden tree is a soft wood tree (it grows quickly) and provides a ton of shade. They are everywhere in Poland (you’ll see later) and around mid-late June start flowering. These flowers produce a sweet smelling scent, and Polish people use them to make honey.

We headed along this treed path until we could see a thing in the distance.

This, Paul proudly announced, is-

OH IT HAS SOMETHING TO DO WITH THE NAVY! I cried, pointing at the anchor-like thing on the wall.

.. No, Paul said, blinking in shock as he cleared his head. This is a monument -

I can see that, I replied sarcastically.

Amelia, shut up. Theresa hissed, gesturing to her brother to continue.

Listen, if she doesn’t want to know, she doesn’t have to! he stormed off across the street to the monument. I don’t even like her anyway. he muttered, unfortunately loud enough for me to hear.

I opened my mouth to retort something witty when Theresa beat me to the punch.

Ugh, thanks Amelia, now he’ll be in a crappy mood. She rolled her eyes, then shot me a fake smile as she very obviously changed the subject and enlightened me on the monument.

So it’s just for the Warsaw navy?

NO, it’s for the Armia Krajowa. Paul knows more about it than I do. But listen, be nice to him. And when you ask, actually sound like you care.

Hey! I replied, somewhat wounded that she doubted my phenomenal acting abilities. Oh, and the fact that she thought I didn’t care.

Can it, Lia.

She headed off across the street, perpendicular to the one we had just crossed. Directly in front of the place I had arrived, there was a fence with a row of bush-like trees (or tree-like bushes?) as I followed Theresa and Paul down the sidewalk. After a few meters, there was a road that had a speed bump and looked like it would be guarded, if it was a weekday. The road continued on after that, and in the distance I could see the tip of a building, with the Polish red and white flag on top.

OOOH WHAT’S OVER THERE? I cried, pointed at the building with the flags that we saw from another angle. It looked impressive, and as I looked down another road that led to the same building, I noticed that it was not just a building, but a building complex.

Government offices. Paul replied. Do y’think that they’ll let us wander around the ground?

The only way to find out is to ask. Theresa pointed out.

Paul concurred as he took us down the street. We walked for a bit, through an area that had apartment buildings.

It’s where the senators live. Paul stated as we rounded the corner of a building.

Look, Theresa pointed, there’s one of those guard thingys. Go ask if we can wander.

Paul strode off, leaving Theresa and I to try and take a few pictures of a weird bird we spotted harmlessly wandering around the road. She started chasing it and my finger was on the shutter, desperately trying to take one of those really professional-looking shots.

When