A Krakow New Year’s Eve of long ago

I’m sure I’m not alone in feeling deep waves of nostalgia whenever New Year’s Eve swings round yet again. Inevitably, I turn to my old diaries, digging them out of the wooden chest in my bedroom. And as I browse through the time-worn pages, I sink into a world gone by: timeless memories that are so distant yet so close, it’s almost as though they exist in some parallel dimension.

So here’s an edited extract from a New Year’s celebration in 1996 that I shared with my then-partner (who I have named X for discretion’s sake – I mean, he might be reading this!) and two friends from England. This was in the days before Kraków became inundated with tourists. Back then, it truly was a magical city. Correction: it still is a magical city, complete with medieval castle and Baroque churches and monasteries and cobbled streets and candlelit cafes and restaurants, all of these delights tucked into the rolling, forested hills of Southern Poland – but back then, it hadn’t yet been discovered by the hordes of tourists that now flood here every year.

Okay, so let’s go on a little journey back in time!

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December 31st 1996

X and I stayed upstairs in bed till about 3.00 pm, making love, talking, smoking, drinking tea, snuggling in each other’s arms again … mmm! Who needs heaven?

We eventually made our way downstairs to the kitchen, where John, our guest from England, was enjoying a peculiar-smelling cigarette. The three of us spent a good couple of hours over a mega-belated afternoon breakfast, listening to the tapes and CDs that X had brought from England, including one of Fairground Attraction CD, which really touched me.

At about 5.00 pm, X and I walked down the snowy road to the local supermarket, where we just barely managed to buy in some last-minute food and drink before it closed. When we got back home, we did more sitting around the kitchen table with John, listening to music, sipping wiśniówka (cherry vodka) and sharing more of his peculiar-smelling cigarettes.

Eventually, we dragged ourselves away from the cosy table, changed into our fancy party gear ( I’d bought a snazzy little black number for the occasion) and caught a bus into Kraków centre, where we met our Anglo-Polish friend at the ‘Pasja’ club on ul. Szewska. The four of us had a fantastic night there, with an endless supply of utterly scrumptious food – both hot and cold, as well as alcoholic beverages, juices, tea and coffee – all included in the price of our tickets – and loads and loads and loads of dancing.

Just before midnight, we trooped down the street to the main market square to catch the electric atmosphere of fireworks and revelry. Although teaming with people, many of whom were waving sparklers and other varieties of fireworks around, no one lost any fingers! A few food stalls from the Christmas market were still open, and the lights from the Mariacki basilica and other buildings cast the entire square in a glowing kind of aura. We eventually piled back to the club for another few hours of eating, drinking, dancing and making merry. Finally, at about 6.00 am, we dragged ourselves away and miraculously managed to grab a taxi.

When we arrived back home, disaster struck: I couldn’t find my keys anywhere! Worse still, as X had lent his set to a couple of friends in case they wanted to crash out at our place, we were totally thwarted, standing outside in knee-deep snow and temperatures of -16C. In the end, John had to smash the glass pane in the back door, so at last we were able to get into the warmth before dying of frostbite. Despite the damage, I was so cold from standing outside in truly Arctic conditions that I couldn’t have given a shit about anything, other than getting inside.

After stamping snow off boots and discarding frozen coats, hats, scarves and gloves, and then pondering and umming and ahhing about what to do with the door, we eventually managed to find a plastic sheet somewhere in the house, which John nailed to the smashed section where the glass panel used to be. Thankfully, not a single burglar discovered our unlocked, plastic-covered door that night. Probably all too drunk!

We warmed up over steaming mugs of coffee and another shot of cherry vodka, as well as lots of laughing reflections about our New Year’s Eve escapade, and finally, we crashed out in our respective bedrooms just as it was beginning to get light. X and I fell straight to sleep in each other’s arms, too tired even to make love.

What a banging start to 1997!!