krakow through the mist: a digital nomad's unfiltered take
i just checked and it's that sticky 17c hanging in the air like secrets at a hostel bar. feels heavier than it looks, tonight won't drop below 17 either. the whole place drips with damp energy, you can practically hear the WiFi buffering in the walls. *Ładna street smells like old pizza dough and unsmoked cigarettes.
my laptop sits on a public bench now, this 24-hour park one of those chaotic urban patches some locals call Korona hair. someone nearby quoted a better average temperature for Bali, but i'm too lazy to pack. the Kati river floods every March, supposedly-don't quote me-but it makes sense if you stare at these puddles long enough.
heard from three separate people that the Krakowska tram line smells like mildew and ambition. went out once, ended up quoting a Yelp review half-drunk about "coffee that ain't betrayal." can't decide if i believe them. the Asa market has soups so basic they might sue under downtempo.
map spat out this corner of Karol_i park, where pigeons argue about migration routes between tramlines. embedded map below because why not? highway 24 whispers about Zakopane being just past belt.
someone yelled at a busker today for playing slowcores renditions of Chopin. real drama energy. the old Hala market rumors say they found WWII-era love letters in the floorboards-trope material if ever there was one.
last night tried Szczepa, whatever that is. think of it as Polish comfort food with a side of existential dread. found a recipe later calling it "pudding with the soul of a librarian."
my kin in Zakopane swear the air up there cuts like a tantrum. might check it out Tuesday. locals here insist you can smell the Uprising from the river banks. smells like burnt coffee and maybe regret.
unrelated tangent: why do all apartamenty here lack AC? the humidity's basically a liability. Krakowi toasty corners balanced by a chill draft through Cantebur Square.
if you get bored, Cracow is just a tenner in the Uber next door. but stay. hear the bike horns sing? that's Krakow*, baby. chaotic, nauseating, and weirdly okay.
PS: my cat neighbor hisses at the pumpkin spice latte boom. #authentic
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