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Published: August 9th 2011
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On this beautiful morning in Poland we drove in heavy traffic through woodland, clusters of lakes and cultivated farmland en route to our first destination, Olsztyn. By now we were well north and noticed the roadside fruit stalls had been replaced by a lone figure sitting with a bucket or two of potatoes and onions on the roadside. It would be very hard to stop at these points without causing havoc for following vehicles, as following distances in Poland seem to be pretty tight most of the time.
Olsztyn was a very pleasant stop, with time to look around the well-presented old town and castle. On this fine Sunday the town square was filled with what seemed to be ice-cream eating local families and some tourists, all enjoying the sun.
We needed to leave this scene and move on towards Kwidzyn, where a local pension would be our accommodation for the night. We had chosen this town for its proximity to Malbork, whose castle we want to see tomorrow morning.
Before we had gone far the thunder clouds rolled in and we were driving in heavy rain through forested country on rutted roads with no guttering. How glad we were
to reach our accommodation and anticipated being welcomed in out of the downpour. The entrance appeared to be around the corner so we puddled our way up to the door, which was locked. Urgent ringing of the doorbell got no response. Neither did five phone calls to the hotel number.
What to do in this situation in a strange town on a wet Sunday night? Easy. Pop down the street to the local police station and ask if they know anything about this pension, or could help us. With dripping umbrella we presented ourselves at the rather forbidding reception area, where an officer spoke via phone to us through the closed glass window. Of course, when he heard our English speech he was unable to reply and disappeared to find another officer. There was much shouting from further back in the building and officer No. 2 appeared, a pleasant young man. He also could tell we needed to find someone who spoke our language, so quickly made a phone call and handed us the phone. Still no luck, the person on the phone spoke German but not English. At that point we managed to share the gist of our predicament
with our friendly officer and he seemed to understand we were looking for a bed for the night. With a broad smile, he disappeared again, indicating we should sit down and wait. Again there was much shouting from deep in the building, then after some time the smiling one reappeared with good news. We should go to the hotel he would now show us how to find with the help of a page of his police notebook and a pen.
We duly went to the hotel and checked in, with some misgivings. It must once have been a busy, popular corner hotel opposite the now run-down train station. Now it is a rabbit warren of dark stairs, archways, floors that gave up being level a long time ago and the odour of stale smoke to greet you on arrival. We settled into our high ceilinged room with its very own archway and decided we were so done in we would just devour our packet of bread sticks and finish our soft drinks from lunchtime instead of trying to find dinner in the darkness and rain.
This indeed was a day of two halves. Thank goodness tomorrow is another day.
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