Two months of anxiety. Part 3. We met Mama and before us stood the task of getting as soon as possible to Copenhagen, to my sister’s flat. At first we tried to take a room in a decent hotel, but everything there was taken, and in the hostel we could stay only until 10 in the morning. My sister decided to look at a rational route. Naturally that was a plane, but from Kraków, late in the evening.
So, we stayed in the hostel until 10 o’clock, Mama slept a little, my sister walked and bought sweets. Since the room had been bought for two persons, we were not allowed to settle as three (by hostel rules). At 10 o’clock we went out with our things into the fresh air and settled on a bench nearby, at a table, and started eating Polish pastries. 😻 The hostel warden came out (evidently his conscience tormented him that he had been so strict with us in the morning, opening the door and saying that three people were forbidden in the room) and started offering us the use of the kettle in the common kitchen and free coffee. We thanked him, but decided to move toward Copenhagen, hire a taxi, go to the station and get on a train to Kraków. And that is 4 hours’ travel.
We travelled in comfort, but we still had a mass of free time until the flight to Copenhagen. According to the timetable the plane was to take off at 23 o’clock. Well, what to do, what to do? There was not much strength to walk a lot; Mama and I sat down in a noisy hall for passengers. All around we heard Russian–Ukrainian speech and the ceaseless voice of an announcer with advertising. Noise, din, confusion. Kraków station is joined to shopping rows. First my sister went to find out where the taxi stand is and how much it costs to get to the airport. She did not find the stand. Then I went “walking,” understood I could get lost, decided to come back. I had the feeling that of all people in this human stream and noise our Mama felt best.
We decided to look for a taxi and go to the airport, although it was still very early. We hoped it would be more comfortable to wait there. And we were not mistaken. At the airport it was much calmer, we drank coffee with tasty pastries and felt much more pleasant. A message came to the phone that the flight was delayed by 1.5 hours. It turned out the plane would fly only at 12.30 at night. But check-in opened early and we found ourselves in the waiting hall. We decided to sit in a café on soft chairs, drink tea, coffee and wait for boarding.
Oh, how hardened by difficulties my Mama is! At such an age she waited completely calmly for boarding the plane, never once complained that she felt ill. At 12 at night a waiter came up and very pleadingly, politely said that he had to close the café, offering at the same time more coffee or tea. We had to leave the soft sofa and go to the waiting terminal. The flight lasted 1.5 hours. Mama slept. We woke her when we landed and she exclaimed rapturously: what? We’ve already arrived? So quickly! We hadn’t even taken off and already landed?
But there still remained a forced march through the deserted airport. It seemed to me that we walked to the exit longer than we flew. We also, foolishly, checked in my small suitcase, we had to wait. When we came out, a queue had formed at the taxi stop. But an attentive dispatcher noticed us and said: “your taxi will come now.”
Waking in the morning, Mama started demanding breakfast. My sister at once started making Mama breakfast, and Mama took and fell asleep! 🧐 and when she woke she started asking us where she was. It is good that she recognised us. Accursed war! Did we ever think that we would be transporting Mama at such an advanced age, depriving her of her usual existence, of the independence and self-reliance she valued so much. Now I return to Norway in the hope that Mama will grow used to the new conditions and I will be able to see her again very soon. Only live long, my dear little Mama!
