Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 70485 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70485 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
“That’s what pushed the limestone skyward,” Roe murmured pensively. “The Alps, right?”
I inclined my head. “Did you read that book about dating the rock salt?”
“Not yet. It’s on my list, but I’ve been so focused on the thirteenth century.”
Made sense. That was when they’d begun excavating, and the mines in the area became an industry. With Charlotte leading the way, Roe was gonna guide viewers through hundreds of years of the area’s infrastructural changes. He’d studied for months.
I’d concentrated more on the past before the arrival of people. I had to know the history of how the salt had ended up where it was in order to know what to film.
Roe yawned and pulled out his phone. “We should order food. I have my Skype meeting with the geologist at Cambridge at three.”
I side-eyed him, thinking he looked more tired than usual. “You okay?”
“Hmm? Yeah. I didn’t sleep well, but otherwise, all good.”
Food, then. Let’s get some energy in him. I reached for the room service menu on the side table and opened it between us.
“Jake, we’re heading out,” Charlotte said. “Considering it’s gonna rain most of the week, we might as well go for consistency.”
Yeah, probably easier, too, than waiting for rare blue-sky glimpses. “Good luck out there. Touch base before you wrap up.”
“Will do.”
As they took off, I returned my gaze to the room service menu, but then Roe put a hand on my leg.
“Listen. What’re the odds of us actually filming anything today?” he asked. “I can’t reschedule my Skype meeting, and by the time we’ve sorted the permits, it’s gonna be late afternoon.”
I furrowed my brow. “What do you have in mind?”
He grinned slightly. “Let’s head out. We’re in a new ancient city—you wanna order another American hotel burger, or do you wanna find an alley pub with local food?”
I smiled. “Do you think they have Polish sausage here?”
That made him laugh, and we were suddenly way more energetic.
Five minutes later, we left our hotel in matching cargo shorts, an NYU hoodie for him, a USMC hoodie for me, and with my trusty camera bag. We didn’t bother with umbrellas; the rain was letting up, and our walk wasn’t too long.
I had a thing for cobblestone streets. They made me wanna take pictures of everything. From the gorgeous lampposts and the buildings to the shop signs and cars driving by.
Krakow was a beautiful city, with a painful past. Supposedly, it’d once been the capital of Poland. But today, I reckoned the city was internationally known more for its close proximity to Auschwitz.
We were in the middle of the historic center, appropriately named Old Town, so it wasn’t difficult to find a place like the one Roe had envisioned. Instead of an alley pub, it was near the main square, and it had a cozy outdoor seating area with an extended awning that sheltered us from the drizzle.
We ordered beer and plenty of food, only some of which I knew what it was beforehand—I really wanted that sausage—and I let Roe’s “let’s see what happens” attitude be in charge.
I’d read about Polish beer and food being good. The time I’d met Roe’s family in Brooklyn, he’d taken me to a bodega of some sort, where we’re bought Polish pastries and pierogis. Fucking delicious.
“If every server’s that good at English, I’m not gonna get to practice my awful Polish,” Roe said.
I chuckled, remembering he’d practiced some touristy lines on the plane.
Since we both wanted the same view of the winding cobblestone path leading up the square, we’d sat down next to each other, so I kept my camera bag on my lap, and Roe nodded at it.
“Get a picture of that house wall.”
I followed his gaze and immediately dug out my camera. Fucking hell. Despite the rain, the sun was poking through the clouds, shining a beacon on an old house wall still bearing bullet holes, presumably from the war.
“Good eye, darlin’.” I peered through the viewfinder and adjusted the focus.
Perfect. Old windows too, with paint peeling off. God, I loved history on display.
When I stowed away the camera again, Roe was smiling, and it was nice to see. Soon I noticed the reason as well. The server was back with our beers.
“Dziękuję,” Roe said.
The server smiled crookedly. “You are welcome.”
Roe looked endearingly proud of himself and raised his beer my way. “Nailed it. Here’s to Poland.”
I smirked and clinked his glass with mine. “Na zdrowie.”
He gasped dramatically and put a hand to his heart. “You learned.”
Well, he’d repeated the phrase a hundred times on the plane, so what choice did I have? Besides, he had the right idea to pick up some helpful terms and words. I didn’t wanna be the American who expected everyone else to know English. As my old man said, that was too French.