We’re getting used to this lie-in lark. We woke up more refreshed than ever, leisurely rolling out of bed far nearer to 1100 than 1000. That’s about as close as we get to a lazy Sunday morning on our travels.

Although we were ready for a new day of baking Polish heat, the Warsovian weather had other ideas. Torrential rain was the order of the day, and we suited up in our cagoules. Yeah, that’s right, I gave another outing to my malfunctioning waterproof – more in. Holding up far better this time, we braved the brief walk to the Old Town. This was bit of a misnomer as the entire city was rebuilt (albeit painstakingly faithfully) after World War II.

Choosing to visit the Old Town on a Sunday appeared to be akin to hitting the sightseer’s jackpot, because everything was free! Skipping most of the churches on the way up as a result of Sunday Mass being given, we decided to visit the Royal Castle/Palace.

An array of art appreciated and paintings perused, we had a quick look at the perimeter of the city’s fortifications and moved on to a traditional Polish lunch at Subway. Killing time before Mass finished with our footloong sandwiches, we finally braved the oldest church in Warsaw: St. John’s Cathedral.

Altars appraised, it was off to the Warsaw Historical Museum, contained within a labyrinth of Baroque buildings in the Old Town square. Not the most organised of museums, it’s informative look at Warsaw’s development took a rather scattershot approach to artifacts and exhibits – a costume piece here, a bunch of paintings there, some posters of the museum’s previous exhibitions among a model of WWII Warsaw & a Luftwaffe plane? Why not.

Before we knew it, we’d finished looking around the Old Town and the drizzle had finally stopped. Celebrating with a typical Polish tall whippy ice-cream, we went to see the impressive Warsaw Uprising monument in preparation to a visit to the city’s most famous museum tomorrow. Commemorating the Polish resistance, the monument was easily one of the most striking things we’d seen, reminding all of the rebellion beginning in August 1944.

After all of that, we deserved a break, and less than two minutes away from our hostel was Blikle’s Cafe, dishing up the best cakes in Warsaw since 1869. It woould’ve been rude not to have some Assam tea and a pączek (a traditional Polish doughnut, filled with rose jam…)

By the time we returned to our hostel, some American girls had arrived in our dorm, as well as two English guys they’d met in Krakow who’d followed them here for the day. Although somewhat perturbed at the revelation that these boys had brought their hair straighteners with them, they both seemed nice enough.

Going our separate ways for dinner, we managed to rustle up a takeaway pizza from the local Pizza Express clone, Pizza Marzano. Sitting in front of The Talented Mr. Ripley with our new dormmates, we enjoyed the slightly homoerotic thriller before retiring for the evening.