I think travel in Europe is a bit too easy. You just drive straight through borders and it initially looks like what’s on one side is what’s on the other apart from different languages. I have been two weeks in Poland and I have to think for a bit, to say what is uniquely Polish apart from the language, which is so impenetrable looking that I haven’t sorted out one word to use. That’s partly because saying “hello” means it’s obvious I speak English and both parties can either do that, or it’s a starting pointing. All those “czwy” sort of combinations make me too scared to try saying things as I’ll probably end up inadvertently insulting someone, and English works fine. Thank goodness. I recently was in the same compartment on a train with a nice business woman who told me she was from a place called Woodge. I got out my map of Poland and asked her to show me where it was, and it is spelt Lodz. None of these complications are a problem for the tourism industry here which is about ten times bigger than I expected. When I went on the “free” walking tour in Krakow the other day 60 people turned up, which apparently is normal for autumn.
The history of Poland is a bit unique but not absolutely. They had a dream run back in the 16th century but then it was split up between the big guys and ceased to exist as a political nation until 1918. That lasted until 1939 when it got split up again between the USSR and Germany, and then in 1989 it was the first to get rid of communism and became what it is today. Although, given the peculiarities of the present governing party and president, the future looks like there could possibly be more changes. Religion is very important and apparently in the last census 89 percent of people admitted to being Roman Catholics, and anecdotally it’s reckoned at least half of those attend church regularly. The Polish pope is a big hero which is due to more than just religion, it’s also because of his support for Solidarity prior to 1989. In Krakow all tourists get taken to the pope’s house where he used to stand on the balcony and chat to disaffected communist-ruled youths. It’s hard to miss because there is a very large photo of him above the doorway. You regularly see proper nuns with wimples wandering about, and well-fed looking priests abound. And you are never out of sight of a church spire or six – the maintenance budget for them must be huge. So all of that is a bit different.
Polish food is certainly seen as being different and every second restaurant in tourist areas sells genuine Polish food. My experience is that means you get very plain cooking with nothing really interesting in the taste and you don’t need another meal for 24 hours. Pierogis are a big deal, being dumplings that can have anything in them and when they have meat they approach pie status. Being a big pie fan I have tried a few of these and some are good and some are stodgy and boring. The best stuff has been the sausages. They are very good, especially when bought from a stall and accompanied by tomato sauce, mustard and onions. It wouldn’t surprise me to be told the original hot dog was made by a Pole. I have generally eaten at places that see themselves as not locally typical and I have had some nice meals, especially rabbit. The ubiquitous pork chop has proved to be variable in quality and the last one I had was dry and tough so I shifted my allegiance to the bunny. There is even Polish wine which I am told can be ok but my experience has been with it by the glass, and I’m sure it’s on the menu only because it is cheap.
Poles also have lots of writers, poets and composers as heroes of their country and in the Warsaw hotel our room was dedicated to Chopin. Apart from just calling it the Chopin Room it had a deconstructed grand piano scattered about. The outside and top was the table, the bit with all the strings was on one wall, and the keyboard part was on another wall. There’s a poet that everyone learns about at school, as proved by the Polish people on a tour I did in central Krakow, all quoting one of this guy’s poems in unison. In the middle of the main square there is a very big statue of and about him. The story was that this guy had nothing to do with Krakow and when the statue was first created all the locals moaned about it being there. Until 1939, when the Germans took it down and suddenly they missed it terribly, to the point where as a matter of silent protest anyone walking across the square would do a circle around where it used to be. There is a series of photos taken in the winter during the war showing the tracks they made.
One of the things that interested me about Poland before arriving was the reconstruction of the Warsaw centre after WW2. Hitler didn’t have much time for the Poles and after they resisted a bit he ordered Warsaw to be razed to the ground. The photos show they got pretty close to that and what was rebuilt is really amazing. It’s not exactly what was there in every little detail but it’s very close. The castle in the middle of Warsaw was made a couple of metres higher, to be more imposing, and some bits that were regarded as nasty add-ons were left out. The same thing was done in Gdansk but the two other cities I’ve been to, Torun and Krakow, didn’t get bombed. Torun was a nice small city with some of its medieval walls standing, and I reckon if Hamilton had been founded in 11-something it would be similar. It’s on the Vistula river and in the early 1400s a bridge was built over the river which is very wide. The present bridges are both 5 spans. l was pretty impressed with the picture of this original bridge and the complicated looking engineering, until I realised that most of the huge cathedrals still about came from a similar time, so a bridge wouldn’t have been anything extra special. There is also an extremely cool medieval crane in Gdansk which could lift 2 tonnes, driven by person power applied via a big wheel with steps on the inside that the workers walked on like gerbils.
On this trip I have walked down kilometres of galleries hung with boring portraits of people from centuries ago. I don’t even pretend to look at them anymore. This was happening in a gallery in Warsaw Castle when we went into yet another room and right in front were two Rembrandts. After all the dross here was something that was immeasurably better, and I was blown away by one of an old man looking like he was sick of life. (A Scholar at His Writing Table)
It’s all in the eyes. I have to admit that when I have seen Rembrandts before I have been a bit ho hum what’s all the fuss. My most recent gallery visit was the modern art one in Krakow which had mostly installations and usually that means I can’t understand what they are supposed to be about. There was a rolled up Persian carpet that periodically flashed Xmas lights embedded in it and played Arabic music. Apparently it was something to do with Moslem art not having human representation in it. I hope it was taking the p, but who knows.
My travel has been by trains and before I even started my first one to Gdansk I caused the only real excitement of the trip so far. There is usually a degree of angst when using transport in foreign countries for the first time, and this was no different. I had worked out what were the carriage and seat numbers on the ticket, and I knew what platform was required. Each platform has two lines and it wasn’t clear which one was mine but I figured I could tell from the time the train arrived. Also I was in carriage number 1 and I didn’t know what end it would be. Then it was apparent that two trains were arriving at platform 2 close together so I thought I would ask a man in a uniform which was which. There was nobody like that and the train I thought was mine then pulled in, so I got aboard and asked a passenger where was it going and which carriage were we in. Right train but wrong end. I had just enough time to get out and walk up to the other end, but as I went down the four narrow steps to get off, my heel clipped one, I tripped, and with my bag out in front of me headed for the platform, horizontally, but with one leg stuck in the gap we are supposed to mind. I imagine it would have looked quite funny but my leg had smacked on the edge of the platform and hurt a lot. It did cause a man in a uniform to magically appear. I showed him my ticket so he didn’t blow his let’s-go-now whistle and I limped rapidly to first class at the front, where I self-performed blood staunching first aid. And just in case you’re thinking why was he waiting for carriage 1 at the back, there was a logical reason, but the next time I knew a precedent had been set, and waited at the front . Guess where carriage 1 was on that train.
Watching out the train windows I have gathered a great deal of information about the local agriculture which I will summarise down to the following: There is a lot of it and Poland is a major agricultural producer in the EU.
When they get the average farm size up from its current 10 hectares there will be even more.
Plenty of good gear being used.
Almost all cropping so no fences.
The land continued flat until about an hour out of Krakow when with no advance warning we went up a bit of a rise, through a tunnel and out into country with hills and valleys. Nothing too steep, but it certainty makes a change after six weeks of flatness.
My last major bit of tourism in Poland was to go on a tour to Auschwitz-Birkenau and that was yesterday. As we drove out from Krakow I wondered how I was going to react, because there is something paradoxical about a place like this being a major tourist attraction. When I got back I sent Kay my daily email and in trying to express how it was, the best word I could come up with was “terrifying”. Not in the sense that I was scared but how else do you describe these sorts of places where humanity turns itself upside down? At one level it was emotional, like the stacks of little children’s shoes, and at another level it was looking at a mundane industrial system for killing a million people and turning them into dust. German industrial efficiency applied from the logistics of collection through to the disposal. I think it was a very worthwhile experience and if you want to know why, come around with a bottle wine one evening and I’ll go on at length. This morning I did my last minor bit of Polish tourism by finally getting into the Schindler Factory Museum. Twice before I had been there to find queues out the door, so this time I was in place before opening and fought my way in. It is a very good modern museum but it was full of groups and loud guides (no Chinese ones), blocking the way and looking at me disapprovingly as I politely moved through. It took me an hour and outside I headed for the best sausage stall, not too far away, to find it not yet open. I am heading back there now and it better be ready to go.
Do wedzenia.
Dennis