“It costs 23 euros round trip, is that ok?”
One minute, I was plan-less for the February long weekend break. Next, I was booked to go to Sweden with a quick jaunt over to Gdansk, Poland. With each passing day since then, I grew more impatient with having to wait to stuff my face full of freshly boiled pierogies. I had them from my last visit to Warsaw, Poland, in 2022 but I’ve been craving them ever since then. Frozen grocery store pierogies just don’t hit the same.
At half past midnight the day of my Polish escapade, I was determined to fall asleep for even an hour to have a chance of surviving throughout the day without needing my typical mid-day nap.
I blinked, and the clock read 4:45 AM. Well, that was a nice thought.
I’m known amongst anyone who’s had a conversation longer than 10 minutes with me as a textbook “airport dad.” I start twitching if we’re one hour and 59 minutes early to the airport instead of the required two hours. I checked to make sure everyone’s passports haven’t magically grown legs and walked away. And I make sure the gate hasn’t done the same.
Apparently the sound of my alarm that early in the morning spooked away any airport dad within my body that day.
Preparing for War (The Cold)
After zoning out and staring at the blank walls for an unknown span of time, it was time to get ready to go, and I needed to be out of the house (my windowless private hostel room with a memory foam IKEA mattress. How fitting for Sweden!) in 45 minutes.
If you’ve never had the displeasure of experiencing a Scandinavian country at the peak of its winter weather, getting dressed to leave feels like what I can only imagine to be the international student equivalent of getting ready for war.
Thermal underwear? Check. Jeans? Check. Long sleeve shirt? Check. Sweater? Check. Gloves? Check. Scarf? Check. Beaten up Doc Marten platform boots? Check. Hand-me-down leather jacket from my father? Check.
“Are you ready?”
“Sadly.”
With lotion applied and coffee shotgunned, I took my last breath of warm heater air before being slapped in the face with the cold, dry and unmistakable wind. Wearing my war uniform and my small packed bag, we made the seven minute trek to the central train station.
Swedish winter is not for the weak.
In the spirit of Miley Cyrus, I hopped off the plane at GDN a few short hours later with a dream (of pierogies) and my 17,000 layers of winter wear.
A Crunch for Time
The original plan was to take the practically free bus to the city center and work our way around the major attractions, but it’s almost as if my stomach knew that the exact moment I stepped foot outside of the Gdansk airport meant none other than pierogi time.
A 30 minute delay from taking off due to the winter storm was enough to put me off of the original plan and jump into a taxi (truly in the spirit of Miley Cyrus) towards the city center. With a 7 PM curfew to be back at the airport, every minute counted.
Having been dropped off about 500 feet from Pierogarnia Stary Młyn, the growling noises from my stomach grew louder and louder.
“Amelie, look at this cool cathedral!”
Do you know how much I don’t care about that cathedral right now? Pierogies have never been closer within my reach!
With the tip of my nose nearly frostbitten and fingers growing numb by the minute, I pushed through the large wooden doors of the restaurant, generating some interesting glares in my direction for wanting to eat a plateful of pierogies for lunch… at 11:15 AM. Table for two, please!
Primal Instincts
My hunger at this point was getting the best of me. As I flipped through the menu in the cabin-esque themed restaurant, I stumbled upon an insane option.
“Wielkie Żarcie (50 pcs): Any person who can eat the whole bowl in less than 38 minutes pays 50% of the price!”
Was this…a sign?
Somehow I was delusional enough to fully believe that I could eat the entire bowl of 50 pierogies on my own. Then I convinced myself I could do it if my travel partner helped. Then I wasn’t so sure.
After 20 minutes of having to be convinced that I was absolutely insane for even thinking about it (and in hindsight, yes, I was), I settled on a plate of nine.
“Can I have the nine piece ceebr… the ceebrow… ceebrohwee…,” I stuttered as I painfully butchered the Polish language. A piece of our waiter’s soul probably died at that instant.
“The cebrowe? Yes,” said Aleks, the waiter. Turns out it was pronounced like cehbrovuh.
Victory is Mine
Eagerly waiting for my spinach, brine cheese and garlic pierogies I found myself staring at the rainbow colored streamers that hung from the wooden ceiling, surrounded by red styrofoam hearts.
Arguably some of the longest 10 minutes of my life had passed by before my presence was graced by the long anticipated pierogies. Nine beautiful little dumplings were placed in a circle around the plate with a bowl of garlic sauce in the middle.
I wasted no time cutting open a pierogi to examine the delectable filling, and dipped the cut half into the bowl of sauce.
I threw my fist to the table with joy and a tear rolling down my face. While scarfing down the rest of my pierogies, leaving both me and my travel partner with no room for discussions at the table, I looked towards the entrance and saw a sign that read:
“Certyfikat Babuni,” with a picture of none other than Babunia Ludwika, the original creator of these particular pierogi recipes.
I don’t claim to be a pierogi making legend like Ludwika, but these dumplings got the next best award that day: Amelie certified. While perusing through the amber museum later that day, I could only think about the pierogies. While sitting in a church with an altar glittering with hand crafted amber statues, the thought of pierogies remained inescapable.
