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It was just the fortieth kilometer of the march in the September heat. Maybe even more than the fortieth... We hiked sharply by the Kampinoska Forest tracks, sandy, as it is well known, windy, or boring straight. There was a draft from the swamps, warmed up by the sun, humid and heavy, stuffy. The forest smelt of mushrooms. We passed on our way places where old inns were situated centuries ago. They had nice and inviting names like Niepust, Karczmisko, Pociecha, Dupne. Our throats were drying up more and more by each of these spots, but there was still about seven or perhaps six kilometers to reach the nearest village. Everyone had dreams of the grocery, even the most trashy, but with beer. But let somebody find grocery in the forest...!
Finally we reached the forest's end and beginning of a village, which was quite big and with grocery, of course. And so it was. I remember the flavor of the beer "Zywiec" up to this day, coldness of the frosted bottle, real joy on our faces and growing rapidly will to continue the march. We hiked still a pretty fifteen kilometers.
"Zywiec" on the finish, in Leszno, didn't taste so good as that one, in that village.
If you want get to know that flavor - you know what to do..."