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Still alive after 2 1/2 weeks in Poland:



This place is called Skansen. When I arrived, it started raining very heavily and there was thundering and lightening. To my surprise, I met a Flemish family, also tourists.

I saw the first small frog during my travel in Poland, after I saw a lot of them. I tried not to bother too much about the weather. But � when leaving the windmill, I had to go off a small stone stair, which appeared to be very slippery because of the rain. And there I was on the ground � my bottom hurt (after it was blue) and I had a bleeding scratch on my arm. I still tried to enjoy my visit. After I went eating in the pub/restaurant, belonging to the Skansen museum. I had a soup and an omelette. I went to the town Olsztynek, but there was nothing much to see. As I didn't know any other way to go back, I went to wait in front of Skansen, on a small private bus.

Sooner or later there should pass one. Not long after, there was indeed a small bus stopping and the driver said that he would take me to Olsztyn. Somehow I didn't really trust it, and it turned out that I was right about it. It turned out that this was not a private bus, but just a man who had a bus like that. With the few words of Polish that I understand, he managed to ask me if I had to be in the City of Olsztyn and he asked me if I was German. More conversation was not possible. We were driving and driving, and at once he asked me "Sex ?". I thought that I hadn't understood well, but he repeated his question and stroke my leg. I said no. We continued driving in silence. Then, on the motorway, but in a wood, he stopped the bus and asked me again the question. I said again no, and I got out of the bus and he continued his way. I guess that he wanted to punish me for refusing him � I knew that Olsztynek was about 20 to 25 km from Olsztyn, and that we had already been driving a while. In another country, I would have taken the risk to hitchhike, but in Poland there are Russian prostitutes waiting alongside the motorways for clients. I guess that if I would hitchhike, the people who normally would give me a ride, would drive on, thinking I was a prostitute, and that only men looking for girls would stop. Many Poles still don't know any other language than Polish, so, I wouldn't be able to explain myself. Hearing me speak English, would certainly convince them that I was Russian. So I decided that I had no other choice than walking along the motorway to Olsztyn. I was walking and walking, and because of the bad weather it started already little by little to get dark. At a certain moment, a man in a car stopped. He asked if I was going to Olsztyn. I was a bit hesitating, but maybe it was a better idea than to continue walking. So I decided to trust him. When we arrived in Olsztyn, I wanted to give him some money, but he refused. It was a nice man.