Repatriate Games



Shall we Gdansk? III. Postcards

Zapiekanka. Hold the ketchup, please.

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Shall we Gdansk? II. Polish Copenhagen

On the day before departure Anna Grace and I pored and planned over the weather forecast, cruel mistress that she is. No Rain, Slight Rain, Sunny, and Everything in Between was predicted, except locusts, and so we packed accordingly. The only downside of our planning was that because of the forecast changing every time we looked at it, we decided not to advance purchase tickets for the very new WWII museum (entrance is limited); this worked against us, and we were not able to visit.

Our driver was at the airport with the, Ms. First Name Last Name-ski” sign and he promptly sped us like a lunatic to our hotel. When he realized that the “ski” part of my name really meant that I was one generation removed from the homeland and could barely speak my native tongue, sadness and silence filled the car.  My grandmother would be ashamed.

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Shall we Gdansk? I. A “LOT” of Frustration.

LOTs more of this pun lies ahead…

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