Naked Sauna At Caesar Sauna - Poland's Only Official Nudist Resort

Unclothed Sauna at Caesar Sauna - A GPS is only as great as the individual who squanders good money to purchase one.
On my way out to the first and currently only official naturist resort in Poland, the beautiful mountain side sauna and relaxation spa called Sauna Cezar (Polish for Caesar Sauna), I was told the freeway running from Wroclaw east to Krakow would probably be my best bet. I was supposed to turn right and head south on Wroclawska Street, (literally, the road to Wroclaw). The GPS would not quit telling me to turn around. I caved. I started heading north. The remaining part of the road was a course for pedestrians.
Bielsko-Biala, town of Caesar Sauna
The GPS wanted to take me east along a lovely country highway. https:/s3.amazonaws.com/viva-naturist/fucking-on-the-beach.html recognized it was place to prevent freeways. Driving on a freeway in Poland includes paying a toll. Poles are notoriously cautious of paying anything. No wonder it was the default option setting. I attempted to browse the menu to no avail. I tried to change the language to English. Nothing worked. https://s3.amazonaws.com/ola-naturist/beach-blondes.html would be.
There are very few traffic lights in Poland. Additionally, there are hardly any stop signs. Every road is either a precedence road or not, in which case a driver either has the right of way or must yield it. This allows for a steady ride. It also will make drivers go fast. Driving as I 'm accustomed on a country highway around 80 kph (that's 50 mph), I was always being left in the dust trail of a Volvo sedan - until of course I came across a line of cars too timid to negociate a big, slow moving truck. Not many highways in Poland have more than one lane. A driven motorist constantly risks becoming smashed.
Happily there were https://s3.amazonaws.com/ola-naturist/granny-beach-sex.html . Once I saw the orange triangle sitting on the ground I realized it was not the omnipresent construction going on in the nation. It was an accident. Add the fact which you always need to drive with your lights on and the likelihood of an American being stopped by a policeman increase fifty-fold.
Luckily the "road devils" can be quite a friendly group. A whole chain of motorists flashed me their brights before I took a speedy turn down the highway. Sure enough, around the corner a motorcycle policeman stood next to his ride. I waved but he did not wave back. He was trying to inconspicuously cradle a radar gun.
I called Peter, the Dutchman who with his Polish wife runs and dwells at the little mountain-side nudist resort. He explained I was on the wrong road. It'd the appropriate name, but to arrive at the upper reaches, I had to drive up another road.
So much for GPS.

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