I thought I’d never make it to Krakow. Under the cover of night, I boarded a van which took me across the border into Hungary, dropping me off back in Budapest before the sun rose. Then, at 6 in the morning, I got on a bus to head to Krakow. It was 24 hours of Romanian sunsets, Hungarian mornings and Polish afternoons.

When I arrived to Krakow, before I even got to my hostel, I managed to walk straight into the funeral procession for President Lech Kaczynski and many of the political and military leaders of Poland. To be a part of that historic moment, as tragic as it was, is something I will never forget.

That evening I took some solitary time and headed to the city’s main square in Old Town and was absolutely delighted by what I saw. As the sun set and the moon rose behind the historic church, St. Wojciech, little lights began to twinkle in the windows of the old buildings. Horses giving romantic rides clopped their hooves against the old stones. It was a magical moment as I prepared myself for my next adventure, exploring Krakow’s Jewish District the following day.

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