Travels to Poland I (Part 4)

My hosts also took me to Krakow, a beautiful city, much of it built by Italian architects during the time of the Austro-Hungarian Empire and, fortunately, completely unspoiled by the war. I have been lucky enough to visit twice. The huge market square, market stalls with unbelieveable amounts of inexpensive amber for sale, the university, the Jewish quarter, and an atmosphere I have encountered nowhere other than Vienna will for ever remain in my memory. If you ever have the opportunity to visit, take it.
I was hugely sorry when, on Friday 8th, the time came for my return to the UK. I was accompanied to the (correct) bus station and found my coach without trauma. The return journey was, as might be expected, similar to the outward trip, but with a few, memorable, differences.
The best was the double seat I had to myself - the bus was less than half full.
The second was a very pleasant stewardess and a supply of Polish beer. I only had enough Polish cash left for one bottle. I was distressed when I discovered this, but very soon had reason to be grateful. After quite a slow journey through traffic jams the coach stopped on the outskirts of Katowice and picked up two passengers - a slim and very attractive young lady and her very fat and very repulsive wailing child. They had clearly been visiting the lady's parents, who had accompanied them to the bus stop and then accompanied them to their seats at the front of the coach, despite protestations from the driver who was, by then, presumably very late because of the jams. The brat seemed to be wailing because he was leaving his grandparents, who had clearly been spoiling him something rotten - they were stuffing him full of chocolate as I watched and, before finally being persuaded to leave the bus, gave him a whole load more with which to stuff himself on the journey. This he must have done with some enthusiasm because the slim lady suddenly rushed, fat brat in arms, from the front of the bus, heading for the bog. She did not make it. Just as she reached the the top of the stairs which led down to the bog the kid erupted like a chocolate volcano, covering himself, the stairs, the walls of the staircase, the bog door, and much of the slim young lady with runny yellow-brown goo. If the mouth had been pointing in my direction I also would have been well within range. I was very lucky indeed.
To be fair to the lady, she braved the dripping walls and the slimey stairs to take the slimey, dripping kid into the loo, and remained there with him for some time. When they re-appeared she had clearly removed most of the goo which could be scraped away, and given them both a wash, but their clothes were still very soiled. They made their way sheepishly back to their seats. The slim young lady made no attempt to devomit the staircase. Neither did anyone else - presumably because there was no high-pressure hose available. Which is why I was glad I had not been drinking loads of beer. When the time came for the lady and brat to alight they were wearing completely different outfits. I still can't decide whether I wished I had been sitting somewhere near the front of the bus. Would the undoubted excitement of watching the lady change her outfit have compensated for the urge to throw up whenever I saw the child? Would it all have been worthwhile had I been able to throw up over the kid?
To add insult to injury, one of the videos on the way home was about an American kid that fell through a hole in his back garden into an underground cave, and about wailing mums, anguished dads, and heroic rescuers who finally retrieved the bastard. Yeuk.
For obvious reasons the journey home was broken by toilet stops at occasional cafes. To save time the ladies queued for the loos and the gents p#ss#d up against the nearest wall. Must have been quite a sight. I was glad I had not poured vast amounts of beer down my throat and had to request p#ss-stops every ten minutes.
To add to the delays, on the journey back it took four hours to pass through customs on the Polish/German border, mostly, it seemed, because we had to take our turn in a huge queue of heavy lorries. We arrived at Victoria on time, however, so clearly this delay was expected.