MARK HILL - writer guy

MARK HILL - writer guy

Bar Mleczny, Krakow


Popped into a "bar mleczny" an old-style communist era cafeteria that makes no concessions to English speakers. The menu is in Polish, but too far away from the serving area for pointing. My miming hand gestures were pretty much useless. Somehow in the cross of English and Polish words, the word "soup" was uttered. Latching on to it I cried "Soup! Yes, soup!" I tried a few more words until "meat" raised a flicker of recognition with one of the cooks. "Beef, pork, chicken?" he asked. He translated for the old ladies serving and I was given a tray with a bowl of not-half-bad potato and ham broth and a plate of tasty potatoes, rather good beetroot mash and some piece of grey, tasteless meat-based stuff that put paid to any thoughts that communism had its good moments. It was okay.
As I left I passed by a cute little Italian place and noted that for just one zloty more I could have had lasagne.
But that wouldn't have been nearly so much fun.