Bartycka

I've spent most of my time in Warsaw on Bartycka. At least that's what it feels like. This little bit of the city is an architects dream and nightmare. It's a little village of mismatched, ramshackle huts, warehouses, buildings and shacks. They are every possible color and shape, thrown around randomly, some are along little pedestrian streets. It looks like a giant toddler has thrown a tantrum and decided to destroy his carefully constructed, wood block city. Each bungalow, be it red, green, yellow or cornflower blue, is covered in posters of whatever it specializes in selling. It's products spill out onto the side walk. Inside the walls are covered in faucets, sinks, toilets, tiles, chimneys and lamps. Here you can find every possible shade of Italian marble, wood floors from countries I've never heard of and every imaginable faucet. I come here and get lost for hours. It's a village inside a city, a favela of toilets and tile samples.