We are riding against the wind, pedaling hard and fast, trying to get somewhere before the storm breaks the sky open.  But I don’t care and neither does he, Jacek, my guide.  At various places he brakes suddenly without warning –each time behind him I’m surprised.  Talking fast giving me a bit of Polish history –most of which is lost in the transition between his language and mine.  I am fascinated with him, his manner, the speed in which he talks.  He takes off the same way he stops –abruptly–Come on! he shouts and in a second he is far ahead as I push up my kickstand and follow his fluorescent shirt.  On this tour it is only me.  I imagine him with 30 others, darting across the road, narrowly missing a tram.  Someone inevitably left behind.  Or worse.

Later, I am the only one left behind on an outdoor patio in the square, sipping wine.  I hear spattering of tourists, eavesdrop on conversations.  The wind blows harsh and cold. At the cafe over where an electric flame keeps the tables warm, more tourists gather.  Horse and carriage circle the square and I am reminded of New York City and Central Park where the carriages gather waiting for a fare.  I try to find the museum Jacek mentioned, but I’m lost.  Tomorrow I will make my way back again.

What do I want to take from this:  All of it.