Bistro Fux says it all

I’ve been off the grid. A long-ass five-day journey to Bydgoszcz and Poznan for guide research is to blame, which unfortunately entails multiple trips to clubs. Which is what I’m here to discuss today: wtf is up with European clubs? I don’t want to misrepresent Americans, or give us credit we don’t deserve, but we’re not a nation of clubbers, are we? It seems like clubs – and by that I mean venues that play music, often dance/pop/electronic/house/somethingwithaDJ – are in the minority of options when it comes to going out in the U.S. In my own personal experience (and this may explain my disdain) clubs are places I’ve only visited for heinous bachelorette parties or as part of a dare. Here, clubs are the outing of choice.

So far I’ve been to 10+ such venues, and while they aren’t all exactly alike, none of them appeal to me. The Buddha Bar’s cheesy Indian theme, complete with Bollywood films in heavy rotation on the monitor, was cheap (plus I almost had to cut a bitch who tried to skip me in the bathroom line). Post Dali Plaza was a seasonal outdoor club complete with O’Neill and Reef banners to emphasize it’s beachy/Hawaiian them. Barf. Baker Street was a modern space…that was playing Sir Mix-a-Lot. Admittedly I have yet to experience a true electronic/house type of club, but I’m doubting it’s ability to convert me. The bottom line: The heels are on, the tits are out, the music is loud…and I’m ready to leave. Sometimes it’s hard to objectively write about what these places are like for readers.

That said, there’s been one place I’ve been that’s actually been intriguing: Kontenerart. Someone – not sure who – assembled a heap of shipping containers in the middle of nowhere in Poznan near the Warta River (you honestly have to walk past 12 crackheads and a few stray dogs raping each other to get there). One container works as a stage, one as a bar, a few are closed up and can be viewed through glass as art installations, and the rest are open to be sat in/on. There’s a heap of sand inexplicably scattered in front of the containers and some wood pallets to sit on, but that’s it. Buy your Grolsch, wander around, then sit on a container. I think the insanity of the clubs has driven me to appreciate something that has the charm of a homeless person’s dream vacation spot.