It was another poor night of sleep, not aided by the knowledge that our planned LOT flight to Tashkent had gone from 40 open seats just a few days ago to oversold. There are virtually no backups that don’t involve spending a vast amount of money or losing a considerable amount of time. We had no option but to just hope it would all work out even though it’s the hope that kills you.
Our only plan for the day was to check out the Warsaw Uprising Museum. We hopped in a Bolt for a wild 12 minute ride during which the driver managed to chat on the phone, take a FaceTime call from another driver, and recite a prayer. Five stars. The museum was absolutely packed. School groups and tour groups added to the chaos. It was not well laid out, especially if you wanted to actually read or learn anything. And here’s where I perhaps messed up. I thought this museum was going to be about the Warsaw ghetto and the Jews fighting back. In the entire museum, I only found one passing reference to this.
The museum was actually about a very specific uprising around August 1944 when the Poles tried to kick out the Nazis even as the Soviets closed in from the east. It was a disaster for the Polish people with tens of thousands dying for a cause that didn’t yield any tangible results — facts learned from Nicole going to the Wikipedia page and not from the museum. In fact, for me at least, the museum was basically worthless. It was very flashy with interactive screens and movies, but it didn’t really have any substance. They had an American bomber suspended in the middle for some inexplicable reason. Then at one point, it just turned into straight propaganda for the modern Polish military which seemed out of place. It was almost surprising we weren’t forced to sign up for some kind of recruitment e-bulletin.
We walked back from the museum to avoid another wild Bolt driver. During the walk we saw a small plaque acknowledging the former location of the wall that surrounded the Warsaw ghetto. As it turns out, there isn’t a proper museum for this at all — just these unremarkable plaques and a few marks on the ground to reference anything of its history. What remained of the buildings inside the former ghetto have long since been replaced. That’s fine. I understand a city’s desire to move forward, but you need to at least better acknowledge the sacrifices and tragedies that occurred on such a wide scale. Call me flabbergasted.
After getting back to the hotel, we packed up our bags to prep for our flight out of Chopin airport. I attempted one last time to check out the rooftop bar, but it has been locked the entire time for the weather. Let’s be real, it’s been locked since last August. Our last Bolt ride did not disappoint. We wildly wove in and out of traffic, stopped on the tracks in front of trams, and drove in the bus-only lanes when it was more convenient. We nevertheless arrived at the airport at the originally predicted time.
Though we had been able to check in for our flight online, I went up to a desk anyway to see if they could just give us seats at that point. That was a negative. The man tried in vain to get us to check our bags for a flight that we didn’t have seats on. He pointed to the 8kg limit for carryons and we pointed to the fact that we didn’t have seats. He quickly gave up and without saying a word, just handed our passports back to us. Security wasn’t too bad, and customs wasn’t great, but could have been worse. We popped into a priority pass lounge, but Nicole was rather cross that seemingly everyone in the lounge was hoarding bananas, and all that were left in the fruit bowl were apples and oranges. Also, the only “water” available was tonic water. Bananas!
After just 30 minutes in the lounge, we went to gate 12N to again see if we’d have any luck with the seat situation. Nope. Eventually about 15-20 minutes after boarding was supposed to have started (though it hadn’t), I noticed on the mobile app that we had seats. I don’t think they had any plan to tell us. We would be separated by about 15 rows on the incredibly packed LOT flight to Tashkent. While quite relieved to have seats, we had other stresses in trying to arrange the rest of our time in Uzbekistan. Hotels were already selling out. We weren’t able to accomplish much before our 737 Max8 took off. It would have been a good flight to have Wi-Fi, but it wasn’t even available for purchase.
The flight was very active with about 20 people in the aisle at any given point during the flight. I felt bad for the flight attendants who were trying to move the cart up and down the aisle and do their service in the middle of the chaos. Overcrowded and overstimulated is the theme of the day. We were served a meal and a snack which was something, but the 5.5 hour flight did seem a bit long in the crappy slimback Recaro seats that European airlines love. The current political geography of this part of the world meant our flight was also a bit longer because we couldn’t take the most direct line through Russia and Ukraine. Thanks, Putin.
Having left Warsaw late, we inevitably arrived 45 minutes late into Tashkent without any explanation about the delay. I shall try to stop complaining, but not just yet! After deplaning via some stairs and getting on a bus, we went through customs. What’s a girl have to do to get off on a jetbridge? Anyway, we’ve been through slower customs halls, but somehow we ended up being the last people to be processed. We then bypassed all those people who waited for their bags. Take that, 8kg limit! Then we took a YandexGo (The Stans version of Uber and Bolt) to the Mercure. After getting settled, making a few adjustments to our itinerary and altering some bookings, we got into bed after 3am. It’s hard to believe that this marathon of traveling we’ve done to get here was the best case scenario. We are now 12 hours time difference from Los Angeles, and it feels it. Tomorrow, however, I think our vacation may actually begin.
passports & pepto bismol 