Hello folks! Let me tell you the story of how I arrived in Poland....
It all started one unseasonably warm evening at the airport commonly known as Logan International. As I was walking to check my guitar into the oversized luggage area, I was stopped by a woman and a man holding a very bright light attached to a large camera. Reluctantly I agreed to talk about ebola, which of course is what anyone traveling internationally right now wants to talk about right before they get on an airplane...
Well, it turns out my interview was picked up for the 11:00 news and I aired repeatedly on television for days. Cool. Totally prophetic. Totally.
I then made it through check out in record time, chatted with a few loved ones while waiting to board, and then slept like a baby the entire flight, waking up only when people came around with food and Swiss chocolate. Miracle? I think so.
After arriving in Poland better rested than I thought I would, I meet the person picking me up only to find out a ride to the next city I'm heading to isn't in the picture. Apparently I have to take either the bus or the train. After much indecision I opt for the train.
Judging from the story of the Italian team, neither option was a good choice. For the train, we first had a 30 minute delay, and then, when we're literally a few minutes away from my stop, the train crashes into something. Crashes!!
Considering the train ride was already like another five hours added onto my traveling day, I was about at my breaking point. Being so close certainly didn't help. Still, despite my brain shooting a running monologue of all the things that could now go wrong, I managed to get in contact with the emergency person given to me.
After much conversation through google translate, I was assured that the person, who also didn't speak English, was now coming to get me, and that I need only wait calmly.
So I wait in what can only be described as a state of supernatural peace for an hour and a half until the super hippie Polish guy with long grey hair comes to pick me up. I then leave, in the dead of night, trekking through the mud on the side of the train tracks to reach his car, which is parked behind the police cars and fire trucks.
It helped that the firemen were fans of Bob Marley and we had a Marley jam session with my guitar while I waited. In retrospect, it all seems a bit far-fetched...
I arrive at the hotel, check into my room, joyfully reunite with my missionary partners, and then slept happily ever after.