One last day in Warsaw.

The grey morning hints at rain and I’m tempted to stay in.

I’ve been doing a lot of touring lately and wouldn’t mind a lazy day doing very little, but I struggle sometimes with not making the most of my incredible opportunities and rouse myself to step outside.

The day before I had decided to leave my camera at home, taking a break from documenting my days. I had pizza near the Chopin Museum (though I didn’t visit it) and found a shopping street I had seen the day before. I had passed it on my way to dinner but didn’t have time to explore.

I’ve made reservations for lunch at Kieliszki na Próżnej, a Polish restaurant with an extensive wine list closer to the center of the city and walk there from my apartment in the Old Town.

I cut through the Saxon Garden where a table is set up in one of the squares. It’s a National Reading campaign event. At noon there will be speeches and then a reading of Renaissance poet Jana Kochanowskiego’s work.

I wander past the event and through another plaza where a man blows bubbles much to the delight of the children assembled around him.

I pass an anti-immigration demonstration, the demonstrators blocking off a few blocks of a main boulevard. Police stand at a distance. On the sidewalk counter-demonstrators hold up signs representing the Partia Razem from the left and signs calling ‘Facists away!’

Lunch is tasty, a tuna dish followed by Guinea fowl on the recommendation of the waiter. Uncharacteristically I eschew dessert in favor of a cheese plate. It’s something that I picked up a bit on my last Antarctica cruise, though then it was usually cheese and dessert.

On the way back I pass other demonstrations and protests. Near the Copernicus monument there are speeches being made and people sit with signs protesting animal suffering and advocating for nuclear power. I wonder if every weekend in Warsaw is like this.

The main street leading to the Old Town is blocked and I enjoy my stroll back home. Stopping by a fast food kiosk I get a Świderki, a tall soft-serve ice cream cone. The ice cream is thicker than most soft serves, however, and I really enjoy the more substantial texture.

Nearing the Old Town I stumble upon a parade, with people dressed in military uniforms both modern and traditional. I’m not sure what significance 6 September has in Poland’s history other than it’s the day Kraków fell to the Germans in 1939 and the day Polish government left Warsaw for Lublin.

One of my last acts as a tourist is to climb the bell tower of St. Anne's Church for its views over the city. A huge banner hangs under the observation terrace and I’ve contemplated paying the admission for the views, but something about the banner destroying the view towards the church has had me pause.

But the desire to see the plaza from above and the rooftops proves too much and so I follow in the footsteps of so many tourists before me and hand over some złoty so that I can climb the stone steps to the viewpoint.

There are a few people on the terrace. One couple sits on a makeshift bench hiding from the light rain that has begun to fall. Others photograph themselves and each other with the city behind them.

I don’t do much in the evening other than pack and prepare for my flight the next morning. It’s five and a half hours to Doha and then seven hours to Lusaka. I’ll have an eleven-hour layover in Doha and have planned to finally visit the Museum of Islamic Art.

I’ve long wanted to go, but it’s never aligned with any of the many layovers I’ve spent in the city; either the layovers are too long or I land late in the evening and the layovers stretch until the morning. Tomorrow I finally have my chance. 🇵🇱