Advertisement
Published: November 3rd 2007
From the magnificent, friendly ambience of English sign-posted and speaking Stockholm to the gloom of late night Warsaw was quite a transition. I first got the feeling that the Poles, especially the Varsovians, are a somewhat hardened people when I accidentally stepped out in front of a car out the front of the Warsaw airport. The driver's response summed up the Polish way perfectly for mine. First, he had the courtesy to toot his horn to warn me of the impending danger, then he sped up to try and take me out.
After narrowly escaping unscathed, I got on the bus into town and tried to buy a ticket only to have the bus driver throw my money back in my face and yell something in Polish. I figured out that he meant he didn't have change for the 50 zloty note I had tried to pay with. As it was the last bus for the night, I did my best to ask if he could wait while I tried to break the note somewhere inside. This he understood, and replied with a firm "no". I stood there shrugging my shoulders, and he shrugged back at me. The only way
I could end the standoff without being left standed at the airport was to just walk onto the bus, take my seat and ride without a ticket. The driver couldn't have cared less. It's a wonder that anyone actually pays to ride the buses.
The second difficulty I faced was finding the hostel, as they had given me the wrong address when I made the reservation. I was almost resigned to the idea that I would be sleeping with all my gear in the 24 hour McDonalds, but in one last desperate search I found the hostel about three streets away. I was too drained to enquire as to why they had directed me to the wrong place by that stage, so I meekly crawled into bed and prayed that things would pick up the following day.
By day Warsaw was only marginally less gloomy than by night. After a visit to the Warsaw Uprising Museum however I gained a whole new sense of respect for the place. The museum itself was one of the best I have been to thus far in my travels. Though I knew Poland had been the first country to be rolled by
The Three Amigos?
Stalin, Roosevelt and Churchill at the Warsaw Uprising Museumthe Nazis in 1939 I still had a lot to learn about what took place in the city over the following 5 1/2 years. I didn't know for example that the Nazis destroyed 85% of the buildings in Warsaw before they turned and ran from the Red Army in 1945. Though the Old Town area has been faithfully restored brick by brick, almost every building in the city dates from the post-War period and reflects the stark, no-nonsense style of Communist Bloc architecture.
The more I found out about the plight of Warsaw and the valour shown by the Varsovians during the War, particularly during the Warsaw Uprising, the more my opinions shifted. What it lacks in style, grace and flair, Warsaw makes up for with the indomitable, fight against the odds, never say die mentality, courage and character shown by its citizens in recent history, at least from this tourist's perspective. While it may not have the elegance of other European capitals (anywhere near it for that matter), it has a bona fide tough, hard, gritty, dour charm about it that endeared it to me, albeit not on first impressions. In this sense, I think it's the sort
The ANZAC spirit
This is a fair rap to get from an Aussie of city that would be near to the heart of a David Parkin or a Tom Hafey type. If it was a footballer it would contribute bravely, solidly and consistently for 200 games as a nuggety, unfashionable back pocket before it got any recognition for its endeavours.
Continuing on with the football metaphors, Krakow is a city more in the mould of a Matthew "the Velvet Sledgehammer" Lloyd - pretty, but with a dirty streak. As I was arriving in town at 11PM, I was pretty keen to take all precautions to avoid another experience like that of arriving in Warsaw and being unable to find my hostel. Despite having copied down comprehensive instructions, there was some initial confusion due to trams going in about 6 different directions and no English signage. Eventually I figured out which tram I had to catch from the train station to the hostel and began waiting patiently at the stop.
Only a minute or so later, a minor altercation about 10m away from me escalated into a savage two on one bashing. At first I was thinking I should somehow intervene, as the bloke on the ground had probably had enough after
Very nice
The Sukiennice (Cloth Hall) in Krakow Market Square a few kicks to the face. However, once one of the aggressors pulled out a spanner and started smashing the victim's knees and ankles with it, cowardice got the better of me. I'd like to think I'd have done differently if I wasn't carrying all of my possessions with me at the time, but I walked the other way, partly in search of the police, and partly so I wouldn't also wind up a bloodied mess myself. Thankfully some cops turned up only a couple of minutes later, just as I was thinking to myself "geez, welcome to Krakow".
Shaken (but not stirred), I arrived at the hostel. After I told him the story about what I'd just witnessed, Kyle (the Aussie bloke behind the bar) told me that such attacks are common in Krakow. He said the only thing out of the ordinary was that a spanner was used as a weapon. Apparently meat tenderisers (those spiky hammer things) are far more in vogue in these parts.
Despite my unpleasant introduction to the city, all it took was a stroll through the old town the following day and I had fallen in love with it. Some may
complain that it is "too touristy", but not me. I am a tourist myself after all, and I am more than happy to be catered to with magnificent architecture, quaint, clean streets, and cheap kebab stalls everywhere. Over and above these features, I can't really reel off too many other things about Krakow which made my heart warm to it. At the risk of sounding as though I'd graduated from the Dennis Denuto school of constitutional law, it was just the "vibe" of the place. Though in football parlance it was already five goals down ten minutes in to the first (after I witnessed the beating), it hit back just as hard and had already snatched the lead by early in the second quarter. From that point onward it never looked back.
While many good times and laughs were had in Krakow, the trip I made out to the Nazi concentration camps at Auschwitz was likely the most sobering experience of my entire life. I had already been to the Sachsenhausen camp outside Berlin, but it would nonetheless have been difficult to adequately prepare myself for the psychological impact of visiting Auschwitz. In a sense, I probably learnt less
The heartbeat
Main Market Square in Krakow Old Town there than I have at many other historical sites, as the horrific crimes of the Nazis have been so well documented since the War. Seeing the evidence of what went on in person however created a feeling that no amount of Steven Spielberg movies could conjure.
Strangely enough though, I think movies like Schindlers List have made me slightly desensitised to the more grizzly aspects of the Holocaust. It was not seeing the gas chambers or the execution wall at Auschwitz I that really shook me, disturbing though they were. What I found most confronting was seeing the piles of personal belongings of those murdered in the camps. Shoes, glasses, clothing and suitcases etc. Looking at a pair of shoes I couldn't help but think that someone once wore those shoes, went to school in them, worked in them, and socialised in them. Seeing the huge bales of human hair and rolls of cloth spun from it made me feel physically ill.
If I left Auschwitz I a little disturbed, I was shaken to the bone by Auschwitz II-Birkenau. Only a 5 minute bus away, Birkenau was the most lethal Nazi death camp of them all. While the
From another angle
Main Market Square again Nazis had destroyed much of the camp before abandoning it in an attempt to conceal their crimes from the advancing Soviets and the rest of the world, some of the living quarters still stand. As bad as Auschwitz I was, it looked like a country club in comparison to Birkenau. I couldn't help but ponder the defence that so many SS officers used in the Nuremberg trials to protest their innocence: "I was only following orders". Orders or not, I couldn't treat rats in the same way as the prisoners in Birkenau were treated and maintain a clean conscience.
While the camps at Auschwitz have become an eerie, macabre tourist attraction, I think they are an important part of any tourist's travels if they are passing through Poland. Representing as it does human nature at its most perverted, depraved and monstrous, the Holocaust serves as a chilling example of what is possible when truth, rational thought, and mercy are abandoned. Though I'd like to think we could never see anything else remotely close to it ever again, the famous quote of George Santayana (which was featured in the Auschwitz Museum) will forever ring ominously true: "Those who cannot remember
Another nice church
The 12 Apostles outside the Cathedral of St. Peter and St. Paul the past are condemned to repeat it."
Advertisement
Tot: 0.089s; Tpl: 0.014s; cc: 10; qc: 48; dbt: 0.0477s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.2mb
tannismc
Tannis McCartney
I was in Poland in October, and I agree with your sentiments on Warsaw. I like it for what it is trying to become. It was so strange to arrive in Krakow after being in Warsaw, but I fell in love with Krakow too (didn't witness any beatings on the street, but I do know who Kyle is).