> Journal And News

Friday, 26 October 2007

No Sleep Til Wroclaw

Wroclaw, pronounced something like 'Rozzlafft' is Poland's fourth largest city on the south west side, close to the Czech border. After leaving home at 1am on Thursday, I arrived there at around 6pm. At 7pm I stood in a dark theatre on the other side of Rynek and read a short story. The whole audience was squinting at me. Half way through the story I realised it was because they were reading the Polish translation on a large screen behind me. How do you translate 'Fear and poo and death, bach,' into Polish, I wonder? When I finished, moderate applause and a cheque for 280 Euros. Unfortunately, Poland still deals in Zloty's so I used a beer token to buy a pint of Heineken. I hadn't eaten for a day, hadn't slept for two, and it totally wiped me out. I went to bed having learned three Polish words - 'Alkohole' - Booze, 'Woda' - Water and, 'Wodka' - Vodka, of course.

Next day I woke at 4pm and went for a walk along Kielbasnicza, the main shopping bar and restaurant area. I'd made the mistake of wearing heels, and the ground was cobbled, so I was tiptoeing precariously and looking down, when I heard somebody crooning Oscar Hammerstein's 'Some Enchanted Evening.' I recognised the voice. In June I'd been sitting in Waterstones in Abergavenny signing copies of 'Dial M for Merthyr,' when the manager started cursing the street entertainer outside. 'He can't even sing,' he said. I looked up. It was him, the busker, standing in front of a bank, covered in dirt, bellowing into the hail, in Wroclaw. Go figure.

Posted at 14:49 |