by Robin Rodig |
October 14, 2015
|
In a place where "drinks" means "cocktails", "cocktails" means "smoothies", and every neighborhood has multiple "alcohole" shops, it was time to suss out the adult beverage scene. I mean Poland's annual vodka consumption stood at just under 17 liters per head in 2008 and lies in the heart of the Vodka Belt of Europe, the historic home of vodka. So to warm up on a blustery, snowy night, I decided to give vodka a shot. Well about 8 shots, really, and one big, smoky, not-just-for-breakfast-and-hangovers-anymore Helluva Mary. It was the Vodka Tour and I was ready to take a shot at it.
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Posted in
Poland
by Robin Rodig |
October 08, 2015
|
The band Genesis and I have something in common. One of their greatest hits was the song Misunderstanding (Click here to get the full effect while reading this post. You're welcome.) and I take my greatest hits to the psyche at the main station where that song plays on a loop inside my head. It epitomizes my relationship with transport as of late. From complete confusion on where to find my train to being stood up by a tour operator, this was a roll-with-the-punches week for the books. So when life gave me lemons, I turned them into a pumpkin spice latte and hunkered down around the hood.
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Posted in
Poland
by Robin Rodig |
October 06, 2015
|
And descending we were. Down an initial 350-step staircase to an ultimate depth of about 440 feet. The chilled air was a steady 57 degrees. The street-level din waned away to a sometimes unnatural quiet. And the enveloping salt walls were literally lickable. In this over 700 year old salt mine, you could just feel the city's mining history wafting through the corridors, chambers, and even chapels.
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Posted in
Poland
In a place where "drinks" means "cocktails", "cocktails" means "smoothies", and every neighborhood has multiple "alcohole" shops, it was time to suss out the adult beverage scene. I mean Poland's annual vodka consumption stood at just under 17 liters per head in 2008 and lies in the heart of the Vodka Belt of Europe, the historic home of vodka. So to warm up on a blustery, snowy night, I decided to give vodka a shot. Well about 8 shots, really, and one big, smoky, not-just-for-breakfast-and-hangovers-anymore Helluva Mary. It was the Vodka Tour and I was ready to take a shot at it. 
The band Genesis and I have something in common. One of their greatest hits was the song Misunderstanding (Click here to get the full effect while reading this post. You're welcome.) and I take my greatest hits to the psyche at the main station where that song plays on a loop inside my head. It epitomizes my relationship with transport as of late. From complete confusion on where to find my train to being stood up by a tour operator, this was a roll-with-the-punches week for the books. So when life gave me lemons, I turned them into a pumpkin spice latte and hunkered down around the hood.
And descending we were. Down an initial 350-step staircase to an ultimate depth of about 440 feet. The chilled air was a steady 57 degrees. The street-level din waned away to a sometimes unnatural quiet. And the enveloping salt walls were literally lickable. In this over 700 year old salt mine, you could just feel the city's mining history wafting through the corridors, chambers, and even chapels.