You can't speak Italian in Poland?!

Our flight finally got into Krakow around 11:30, and the first thing I realized as I stepped onto the Krakow tarmac in the cold rain and wind was that they don't speak Italian in Poland! Using my vocabulary of thirty Italian words has become second nature for me, and I am so conditioned to speak in this weird Italglish. I don't have to say how beautiful it was to fly over northern Italy, with cities and roads lit all lit up and me kind of crying on the inside because I was leaving Italy and going to Poland. Yeah, I had Bologna-sickness before I even left. It's not like that I did want to go to Poland entirely, it was just that I loved Italy, and that I didn't really want to give up the last two weeks. Or the really nice weather. I swear as soon as we left Italy it started raining and we hit turbulence, which I took as further signs that I should've stayed in Italy.
But back to the Italian part. I said goodbye to the flight attendant in Italian, shoved my way onto the bus in Italian, and tried to talk to the immigration man and taxi driver in Italian. And they all looked at me like I was crazy! Even today I still want to throw out a few "grazies" and "scuzzas."
The weather here absolutely sucks! Or rather, it reminds me of South Bend during November and December. Raining, cold, and gray. It's not like I'm not used to this type of weather, but it was sunny and 85 degrees yesterday in Bologna! Just a huge letdown. I really have to stop comparing to Bologna. Actually when we touched down in Krakow (which henceforth shall be known as its Italian name "Cracovia") I felt kind of good about being in Poland, like it would be a totally new adventure with amazing surprises and that I wouldn't miss Bologna as much. It's kind of true.
On the way into town last night we passed by church after church, monastery after monastery, which were all pretty breathtaking. Today Iveta showed us the way into town. We are staying at the most centrally located hotel in the city, especially compared with Alma Mater in relation to everything else in Bologna. We are less than a five minute walk from the church where Pope John Paul II was a priest--be jealous, be very jealous. Cracovia seems to be a bit more pedestrian friendly, and it scared me when I lost my nerve and didn't j-walk across the street! We walked around the main square, down a few streets, and found the castle (which is the first time I have been up close to a real castle before and it was really pretty awesome). There is a great walking path along the Wisla river, which is currently overflowing. As we were walking along the Wisla the sun managed to peek through the clouds, at which time I stopped, threw my hands in the air and twirled like a maniac in the sun's glorious rays. Yeah, I got a few looks.
There is a great vegetarian restaurant just a few blocks away from the hotel, so I had an enchilada (yes, I know, I am in Poland) and the most amazing lentil soup ever! The enchilada was actually pretty good, except for the fact that it had mushrooms and I HATE MUSHROOMS! But we will definitely be going back a few times. But I couldn't help but notice the sign in English that said "beware of pickpockets." I don't think that I will have the same security to go out alone, particularly at night, in Cracovia that I had in Bologna. It is totally going to cramp my style! So far I feel sort of out of place, because I don't fit in with the dark hair/dark eyes thing of Bologna.
Cracovia is also a lot quieter than Bologna, which could be because it is colder and more people are inside, but it is kind of a weird shock not to hear kids screaming, horns honking, and dogs barking. But Cracovia has a type of noise that Bologna doesn't--street performers. In the main square, there are many musicians that provided a different type of soundtrack. Outside of the Pope's church there was a woman in a purple dress playing the violin in the rain, her case open on the ground. At first it made me wish that I could play my violin like that, but then I was sickened by the very thought. How could I selfishly want to play my violin just for myself when this woman is standing in the rain as perhaps her only means of subsistence? Iveta said that she has seen the woman at the same place each time she has been in Cracovia. There were also three dueling accordions playing "The Flight of the Bumblebee" and a heartbreaking boy who appeared to be younger than my brother sat on a stool playing random chords on his accordion, alone with his puppy (everything positioned just to have the heartbreaking effect). I felt somewhat guilty that I was enjoying these performers music.