The journey to Warsaw was difficult and frustrating, but my visit to the city was definitely worth the struggle to get there.
On Friday morning, one of my trains was delayed, and even though I had bought the journey as a single ticket, the next train would not wait 3 minutes for me. During the three-hour train ride, I watched as the screen flipped back and forth between "2 minutes delayed" and "10 minutes delayed." I stopped one of the train staff and asked if we could call the next train I had to catch to see if they would wait for me. I had 7 minutes to get to my connection, so any delay past 6 minutes was not doable. He said he would see what he could do.
He came back later and said the conductor should be able to make up that time by driving faster. That did not happen. I continued to ask, over and over, if we could contact the next train. He continued to go back and forth and finally told me, "See - the delay is now only 6 minutes. You have time to get to your connection." I wanted to ask him, plead him, could we call the next train? I could not rely on the current time of the delay. The numbers had been going up and down for the past thirty minutes. My intuition was correct - the final number was 10 minutes of delay. I would miss my train.
I ran up and down the train, trying to find the man again. Maybe we still had time to call the next train. I found him, and as soon as he saw my face he said, "It's not my responsibility, it's theirs," and pointed two men behind a desk at the front of the train.
I went up to them, breathless, and asked if we could request that the next train wait three minutes for me to arrive. I had a similar situation one week prior, and my host mom said the train would usually wait for me. It did not - but I could at least try again this time.
"No, not possible," one of them said without looking at me. "Are you sure?" I asked. "Please, I have to catch this next train or I will miss my flight."
"Not our problem," they said.
"Actually, it is your problem. Your train was delayed."
"Not our problem. Just take the next train. Your ticket works for the next train."
"I can't wait for the next one. I'll miss my flight. Can I at least get a refund for my connection?"
"No."
"Are you kidding? It's not my fault that I will miss my train. That's your fault. I need a refund."
After more back and forth with me trying to stay calm and them giving me cold responses back, they finally gave me a number I could call to get a refund.
I could not wait for the next train, or else I would have arrived at the airport the minute my plane took off, so I ran outside the station and hailed a taxi (my Uber app kept shutting down, so I had to resort to other measures).
When I stepped inside the cab, I asked the driver how much it would cost to get to the airport, which was about 10-15 minutes away by car. He said it would be 8 Euros. I thought that was ridiculously cheap, so I confirmed two more times and received the same response before telling him to drive off.
I called the train first, and the lady on the phone told me I could file a report "and they would review it to see if I was telling the truth" ("The truth?" I said with annoyance. "It is the truth."). She said it was highly unlikely that anything would happen. I probably would not receive a refund.
I then called my host mom and told her what had happened. She groaned and said, "That's the state train system. They are known for horrible customer service. This is why they have such a bad reputation and no one likes them." The first staff member had been very helpful, but the other two were quite unkind.
After I hung up, my taxi driver chuckled.
"Could you understand that?" I asked.
"Oh yeah," he said in English. "They are known for ripping you off like that." I groaned and said, "Tell me about it." We chatted the rest of the way to the airport. He told me that he had escaped Nigeria as a political refugee 25 years prior, and had settled into Vienna nicely. He used to protest the Nigerian government, until one day he caught word that they were going to imprison anyone against the system, so he fled. I started to warm up to the driver; he was kind and personable, and had an interesting story. That immediately changed once we stopped at our destination.
Now, I don't know if he meant 8 Euros per kilometer when we had initially discussed the price, but once he pulled up to the airport, he said, "That'll be 32 Euro, times two." I balked. "What?"
"32 Euro, times two. So, 65 Euro." I asked him twice more, and he replied with increasing volume and frustration. His cheery mood had changed entirely once we stopped and the real business started. "Why is it so much?" I asked with a shaky voice. He explained that we were now in a different state, so I had to pay his way back as well. I stared at him with an open mouth. I had no idea that was a rule (because it probably did not exist).
Tearing up, I handed him all the money I had in my wallet that was supposed to cover a weekend's worth of food and museum entries. I could not believe it. 65 Euros. My connecting train ride had been 4.50 Euros, for which I would not be receiving a refund. I was later told by some friends that he definitely ripped me off. I had not been sure at the time, so I gave him the money. I did not know if he would call the police if I refused to pay him that much.
I grabbed my backpack without a second glance at that man and ran into Terminal 1A, where EasyJet flights were assigned to depart, only to find out it was just a long line of desks for checking in bags. I only had my backpack, so I ran back outside, across the road, and flung myself through the sliding doors of Terminal 1. I looked around for a sign that said "All Gates," located it, then put myself in the back of a long line for security. I tapped my foot and started to cry. I was 30 minutes off schedule, which meant by that time, my flight was due to take off in 20 minutes. If this line did not speed up, I would be looking the flight attendants dead in the eye as they closed the gate right in front of me.
People glanced at me hesitantly when I called my boyfriend and cried about what happened. The reason I was so upset was not about the money; it was about being treated with indifference by the people on the train, and about being taken advantage of by my taxi driver.
I finally made it through security, and sprinted to my gate. Vienna airport has about 5 different gate sections, and in order to get to section F, I had to run halfway across the airport, take an escalator up to the next level, and then run halfway across it in the other direction.
I made it to my gate.
I stopped, out of breath, at the gate. Everyone was standing in line, ready to board. I looked up at the screen. It still read the original departure time, which was about five minutes from the time it was now. No delay was ever announced, but the flight ended up leaving 40 minutes later than scheduled. 40 minutes was exactly how much later the second train would have gotten me to the airport. I could have taken the second train, and not spent 65 Euros on a taxi, and made my flight. But that would have meant taking the risk of missing my flight had there been no delay. I sat down, frustrated, thinking back to the time before catching the cab, convinced I could have made that risk, but no, that was not practical. That was a gamble, and even if I made it to the airport late, I would not know until I reached the gate that there was a delay since it was not officially announced anywhere.
Alas, I reached Warsaw safe and sound. I made it. And I am so happy I did.
After walking the Old Town during that wonderful Golden Hour, my CouchSurfing host met me for dinner. She graciously paid for our meal, which was the best traditional food of a country I had ever had. I ate crispy potato pancakes with meat and gravy and Poland's signature dumplings called polenta. The food was incredible, but certainly not gluten-free, so I paid for it dearly later. I still think it was worth the pain, and I could not recommend Poland's food enough.
The best way to explore a city is to walk it. To spice it up a little this time, I added some detailed history into the walking. I signed up for a free tour hosted by Walkative! Tours online prior to departing Austria. The morning after I arrived in Warsaw, I walked to a Jewish synagogue for the start of the Old Jewish District walking tour .
The two men I met in Salzburg at the castle enlightened me that most cities have free walking tours you can sign up for, and that they are a great way to get a historical perspective of the city before you go on to explore more on your own. That way, you are not just meandering around, looking at things; you also know something about their significance. Make sure you schedule ahead, and be aware that sometimes city tours stop running regularly once the winter starts.
The tour was informative, sad, and enlightening. I learned a lot about the Jewish ghettos - the before, during, and after - and was able to physically walk to the places where these districts used to stand. It was a sobering experience, and made me want to know more.
I had signed up for a tour of the Old Town for the previous day, but since my flight was delayed, I missed the tour. So, I signed up for a tour on the second day. However, I also promised a friend we would video chat that day, at the exact time the second Old Town tour began, and I did not want to miss either. Mainly, I did not want to miss the video chat - my friend and I had not found a time that worked for both of us since I had landed in Austria two months prior. So, I stood back from the tour and talked to my friend, and when the tour moved, I followed several meters back, out of earshot but still within eyesight, so I could still catch the last part of the tour once my call ended. The second half of the tour - the part that I was present for - was another enlightening experience. I learned about Marie Curie's history in the city, about the name "Warsaw," about the art painted on the buildings, and much on the history of the city during WWII.
The last day, I had just enough time to explore Łazienki Królewski Park, which I had seen on the "Visit Warsaw" page online. I am so glad I went. It felt like winter outside, but the fall leaves were as bright as ever. It was a magical place. No one was in the park but me, a couple runners, random guards and a few couples taking wedding or engagement photos. As a result, I could walk along the aisles of bright orange leaves along the bank of the lake in comfortable silence.
I spent most of my time in Warsaw walking alone among brightly colored buildings and leaves. It was a solitary trip, and I enjoyed the rest it gave me. I decided to forgo paying for entry fees since my budget was spent on that taxi ride, so I missed out on some of the valuable history within its museums. I hope to come back to the city soon and visit the places I skipped to learn more details about Warsaw's uprising against the Nazis and about the Jewish population that once lived and thrived there before the war.
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