09 June 2009


Last night as I lay in my bed dreaming about South Africa, for which I depart tomorrow, my wanderlust returned with a vengeance. Now, I know that, as just stated, I'm leaving on Wednesday to go to Durban, but all this excitement and anxiety over my impending trip has me thinking back to last summer in Poland.

Lying here, eyes closed, Fletcher tucked so close to my face that his shagginess was practically suffocating me, I swear I could see the Sukiennice Cloth Hall, the Rynek Glowny (Grand Square), and the Basilica of the Virgin Mary's. Even though I was still wide awake, I could actually feel the cobblestones beneath my feet, the flapping of pigeons swirled in the air around me and the spicy, savory smell of kabobs made my stomach grumble

So now, even though I should be focusing on my South African adventure, I cannot stop thinking about Krakow-- the maze of streets the dart from the main squares, urging you to get lost, and the the sense of mystery and awe I felt when I made my early morning journey to Jagiellonian's hallowed halls.

It has been almost a year since that fabulous summer, and I can't help but think that maybe this time, my wanderlust won't be disappearing. Because I have discovered something, as much as I loved Italy and Germany and Ukraine, they are not Poland. Krakow captivated me and drew me in, and now I am hopelessly and utterly attached to her. She is a part of me, and I can only hope that someday I will return.

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