Today was a travel day and was supposed to be restful. But our lack of language skills made the day more stressful than we anticipated.
One thing we noticed in Warsaw was that there was so little English. In most European countries, particularly in tourist areas, one sees English signs everywhere. It’s not just for Americans. Brexit or not, English in the lingua franca of Europe, and the way that Italians can talk to Swedes, Portuguese to Finns. But the Poles seem very proud of Polish, and because of the Soviet domination until 1989, of course, only those under about age 35 speak English. Older folks all studied Russian.
Nowhere is this more true than the transit system. Getting on the right train to the airport and buying the ticket to ride required the kindness of strangers. It must be assumed that only locals will use mass transit, because everything was in Polish.
Istanbul has a beautiful new airport that has only been in operation a few weeks. When we first got off the plane, we marveled at “that new airport smell,” and how much better the signage was. But once we got to the bus platform, we realized that the ticket machines only spoke Turkish. Again, we relied on the kindness of strangers to assist in that process.
When we arrived at the end of the line for our first bus, we found ourselves at a bus stop with absolutely no information in ANY language — no indication of what buses stop there, what the schedule might be, or anything. When our bus did show up, it stopped down the block from the actual bench, and we missed.
We gave up and took a taxi from there. It was probably a good thing. Even the taxi driver had to stop twice to ask directions, and that even when he was using a GPS! We might still be lost if we’d made the attempt on our own.
Once checked in, however, we found our quiet little B and B to be quite nice. A few blocks away, a restaurant overlooking the sea was having an Iftar special. It was a fixed menu meal — about six or seven dishes for one price — and served to everyone in the place all at once, as soon as the Muezzin called Maghrib. We were the only infidels in the place (well, if you don’t count the dozen or so who had to go out for a smoke as we finished our tea). It was a fun experience.
One thing we noticed in Warsaw was that there was so little English. In most European countries, particularly in tourist areas, one sees English signs everywhere. It’s not just for Americans. Brexit or not, English in the lingua franca of Europe, and the way that Italians can talk to Swedes, Portuguese to Finns. But the Poles seem very proud of Polish, and because of the Soviet domination until 1989, of course, only those under about age 35 speak English. Older folks all studied Russian.
Nowhere is this more true than the transit system. Getting on the right train to the airport and buying the ticket to ride required the kindness of strangers. It must be assumed that only locals will use mass transit, because everything was in Polish.
Istanbul has a beautiful new airport that has only been in operation a few weeks. When we first got off the plane, we marveled at “that new airport smell,” and how much better the signage was. But once we got to the bus platform, we realized that the ticket machines only spoke Turkish. Again, we relied on the kindness of strangers to assist in that process.
When we arrived at the end of the line for our first bus, we found ourselves at a bus stop with absolutely no information in ANY language — no indication of what buses stop there, what the schedule might be, or anything. When our bus did show up, it stopped down the block from the actual bench, and we missed.
We gave up and took a taxi from there. It was probably a good thing. Even the taxi driver had to stop twice to ask directions, and that even when he was using a GPS! We might still be lost if we’d made the attempt on our own.
Once checked in, however, we found our quiet little B and B to be quite nice. A few blocks away, a restaurant overlooking the sea was having an Iftar special. It was a fixed menu meal — about six or seven dishes for one price — and served to everyone in the place all at once, as soon as the Muezzin called Maghrib. We were the only infidels in the place (well, if you don’t count the dozen or so who had to go out for a smoke as we finished our tea). It was a fun experience.
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