Week Ending

The underground secret barroom.

Not a swimming pool, but the rippled glass bar.

Almost killed getting this shot of a passing tram.

And this is an old Soviet film projected in the main square. Took me twenty minutes to get a shot of Cyrillic intertitles, hope you appreciate 'em.

Lots of photos today - of last night.
I feel I'm at my best when griping, and frankly it's been mostly good experiences this week, so it was nice to allow some irony to creep in last night, as ever, ignoring Mr. Zimmerman's advice, 'simply that one should not be where one does not belong', viz a nightclub at midnight.
the pictures show it filtered through (one) pina Colada and (one) jameson's and (one) Zywiec.
I sat up on the balcony lonesome for an hour wondering why no-one was there yet. then I noticed a whole troupe of bald men going downstairs to the toilet... and not coming back. Was it that sort of club? Or was there a secret room in the basement?
Turns out the latter. the party was in full swing. This took me back to 1974 (I kid you not) which was the last time bouncers had looked me up and down and refised me entrance to a club. So great to be young again. I went upstairs to the festival assistant Judita, who was ever so embarrassed and rushed downstairs to correct things. they wouldn't let her in either. My first loss of temper in Poland, i told the bouncer that the club had 'shitty organization'. Yes, my Polish stretches to that. All the other expressions would have got me beaten up.
But I got in, somewhat deflated, as in the Dylan quote, and went home to sleep.
Foto impressions above of club Novacaina. Not recommended for its friendliness.
There, I've been negative now, I feel better.