May 6 2006  Poland is renowned for its vodka. We have planned not to stay in any one city on our central European jaunt - M. and me - for more than two days. We slip up in Krakow however, as we have to wait a full day - our third in the city - for our connection to Czechoslovakia; a sleeper train that leaves at 10:42PM. We end up waiting in a bar. Vodka with bison grass and apple juice is delicious but the barman considers it a sacrilege to mix vodka with anything at all. "Polish or Russian?" he asks, having placed two vodka bottles on the bar. "Which is better?" I reply, cheekily. "Polish, of course," responds the barman. This is how I end up with a straight shot of vodka when I was aiming for vodka with bison grass and apple juice. A guy who needs a haircut sitting nearby says that I should try "Mad Dog" if I haven't already done so - a speciality of the region. Never heard of it, so I order a glass. The barman agrees that Mad Dog is good and leaves the pub to go and fetch a bottle of something. He comes back and pours a shot in a glass no bigger than a thimble, along with a couple of drops of Tabasco. All eyes in the bar are on my little drink and me. "You have to knock it back in one go," says the guy without a haircut. This I do and my throat instantly contracts as the stuff passes down it. I cough but don't fall over. The barman shows me the bottle. The alcoholic strength of the stuff is a whopping 95 per cent. Hours later we nearly miss the train we have been waiting all day for, and M. and me have to run down the platform.