Waking up in Krakow

Krakow greeted me with rather mild temperatures last night. It was dry, no snow on the roads. Only this morning, when I opened the window, did I see the scarce  remains of the white substance prettily adorning the buildings and trees as far as the eyes could see.

The journey to Poland was affected by the London Underground strike action. I didn't dare using the alternative public transport and got a lift from a befriended driver, an unstoppable chatterbox.
Aboard the plane another talkative man had my attention during the flight. Then, a Krakow taxi driver was more modest with words. However, I learnt from him about his two-year's contract in Baghdad driving those who were electrifying several of the capital's districts in the early 1980s. It gave him a great opportunity to explore the area. He drove coachloads of workers to the tourist sights of Iraq, Jordan and Kuwait at weekends.