On traveling 'alone' (part 1)-

I opened my eyes to the stewardess shoving my bus ticket at me. As I attempt to regain my sleepy vision, Warszawa is the first word I see peering out of my foggy window.  I made it to Polska. The clock on my phone read 6:05am. It took a bit of time to gather my 40kgs (60+pds) of luggage. I search the bus station for taxis and find a bunch parked outside the front entrance. As I walk in the direction of the taxi line, a man steps out of his car. I hand him the address of my couchsurfing host. The driver puts my luggage in the trunk and repeats what is written on my paper.

Sleepily I whimper, "Dziekuje!" It's the little bit of Polish I remember.

Twenty minutes and 25 zlotys later, I arrive at a flat. My host messaged me the number and the passcode, but there are ten entrances when I arrive. Nearly an hour later, I find the door and carry my 40kgs of luggage up two flights of stairs--elevators are the one thing I miss about my country. 

Every flat is numbered, but his. Reluctantly, I open the numberless door to find a cluttered narrow entrance--it wasn't so much the clutter that startled me, rather the eerie water sounds playing from an invisible stereo, probably buried underneath what looked like torture contraptions. This is the first time I have ever feared for my life because of another human being. I stood at the entrance for what felt like an eternity, contemplating the outcome of my experience if I were to stay. There are some stories you wish not to claim as your own; my gut told me this could be one of them.

Standing outside the door, I played the scenario over and over again in my head. How would I escape? I am in Poland with no phone, and absolutely no one knows where I am. It's now 7:30am, I can still find a hostel, so I grab my belongings and leave as quickly as the weight around my shoulders and arms allow. There is no map, and I have no idea where I am, but I do recall seeing the metro a few blocks away. I walk in any direction, as long as it's away from where I am.

After a couple of hours wandering through the Polish capital, I  reach the point of exhaustion where I'd accept any accommodation for the night. Ironically, I booked a room at a hostel in the Praga district. Leaving my bags at the hostel, I ask the front desk for directions to Zygumnt column. I am supposed to meet up with Angloville, an English immersion program and the reason I came to Poland on such short notice, for a tour of Warsaw.

On the tram to the city centre, I finally have a moment to process the past few hours. The heaviness of what could have been hits me all at once. I think of the many girls whose outcome was different than mine; as I sat on the tram surrounded by Polish signs and listening to foreign conversations, suddenly I began to feel isolated. Alone. It's as if I hadn't realized until now, I am the foreigner; I lack the home advantage. In all of my travels, I have never felt so helpless.

I sat by the column, sulking in the beautiful Polish sun, watching the tourists snap photos of the historical square. That's when I hear a british accent. Suddenly I don't feel so alone.

"Are you waiting for Angloville?"

It's incredible how quickly we forget our worries with just the slightest human contact. The number of native English speakers increases and soon our group consists of a Kiwi, two Aussies, a Canadian, two Brits, and two other Americans besides myself. My aloneness is stripped from me in a matter of minutes. Everything is going to work out, I've known this all along...

The first morning of my return to Poland was a grand adventure. Though, one not for the faint of heart.

We had no idea what we were getting into. Many of us decided just days ago to come to Poland; one American even missed a flight to Budapest to volunteer with Angloville. Maybe it's all a hoax, we're on a game show or about to be sex trafficked--it just sounds too good to be true, we thought. Six days in a 4 star hotel, free room and board just because we speak English. It all seems surreal. We would shortly discover it is our reality.

After spending the day together, we parted to our different hostels, promising to meet at the bus on time the next morning. We half joked about the possibilities; what if they collect our passports when we arrive at the resort and we're stuck in Poland or worse: maybe we aren't even going to a resort... We started a group chat via whatsapp to keep in contact with each other at all times. As I sit on my bed in this beautiful resort, I now laugh at our paranoia. My first morning back in Poland and the traumatic story that it was, seems like a distant memory, another life. I am in the beautiful town of Zabuze, 40km from the Belarus border... O how my days have unraveled poetically. Poland's golden autumn perfectly adds to the wonder of it all.

Jenny, my kiwi roommie. She's been traveling the world since March. Our stories of how we ended up at Angloville are identical: she too was in Prague, we actually lived in the same neighborhood and had no idea. She was working at a hostel when she received a message via couchsurfing to come to Poland for the week. We spent our first day together sharing travel stories, quickly finding that our hearts are made of the same thing. 

 I'm convinced the collision of our lives was written before time, our story is an ancient one.

It's incredible, really. The magic of it all. Each of us began this journey to Poland alone, but we'll end it forever connected. I guess that's the lesson in it all: you're never truly alone.

We're never truly alone...

TO BE CONTINUED