Finally, the holidays! You have to go away for a holiday—to rest, but also so that after the holiday you have something to boast about. Even if we cannot go away for long, and have to forget about foreign trips because of a lack of funds, a holiday at home remains an option. A very specific one. Typically Polish...
Maybe to the seaside...
Resting is, in other words, doing nothing. This principle must be absorbed as early as possible and passed on to children, grandchildren and anyone else we can. So that they do not happen to get the idea of tiring themselves out on holiday.
The first day on the beach. There is no room; people are lying packed tightly together like sardines in a tin. We did it! We have our own patch. Two by two metres, between a blonde beauty and a portly six-year-old who is shouting through his tears: "My hole. Mine! I dug it myself." The sun is beating down, so you can get a beautiful, golden tan like that blonde beauty has. Sunscreen? Why use sunscreen? The sun might not get through the filter, and then there goes the tan. So we lie flat for a full four hours, remembering the rule that the sun burns strongest between 12 and 3—we are sure to get a tan. The sound of the sea, the smell of fish from the nearby fish fry, a six-year-old defending his hole... There is even a moment for reflection, for true poetry: "Husband, husband, don't be a fool, let your wife buy you an ice cream"—urges a handsome man carrying a portable cooler. The skin has already acquired a nice burgundy shade, so we can leave the beach and buy an amber necklace at a nearby souvenir shop... And in the evening, treat the burned skin with panthenol. The second day by the sea will be similar. And the third. And the fourth. And so on until the end.
To the mountains, to the mountains, my dear brother!
Preferably to Zakopane or Karpacz; we will not be bored there—lots of shops, bars and souvenir stalls guarantee that we will spend our time pleasantly. After all, it is not about going into the mountains and laboriously climbing to the summit, heaven forbid with a backpack! As a last resort, you can take the shortest trail, ride to the top on a lift if that is possible, or, preferably, admire the mountains from below, sitting somewhere in a beer garden or strolling along a promenade where you can buy a plush Tatra marmot with a tasteful "made in china" label. Let us not forget the obligatory photograph with a bear, for some reason a polar bear. Perhaps white is more media-friendly than brown fur? A matter of taste. We return to the mountain hostel, cheerfully waving the just-purchased ciupaga with a built-in thermometer, and take off all those oh-so-useful fleeces and Gore-Tex garments... Yes, it was a tiring day; we deserve a moment's rest.
Complete wilderness
It may seem strange, but there are also people who define rest differently. They like so-called "active recreation." At this point, some people will pull a nasty face and say that no such thing exists. Only eccentrics choose active recreation, because what else would you call someone who does not want to lie on the beach for hours but prefers kayaking? And going into the mountains with a backpack is a complete misunderstanding. Interestingly, quite a few people choose trips to the Ukrainian and Romanian Carpathians. Where there are no plush marmots, luxury guesthouses or ski lifts. There are no polar bears either. There aren't?! Why, that is complete wilderness!
Katarzyna Rucińska