Poland, Chapter 2: Warsaw, A Monument to the Polish Spirit


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September 24th 2011
Published: September 24th 2011
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Note: All events described in this entry occurred from late September to early October 2006. For more updated entries and trips, please refer back to this blog at a later date. Enjoy!


I remember waking up early the next day, well rested. I went downstairs and ate the breakfast that was provided by my hostel, which was cold cuts, cheese and toast and a choice of coffee or tea to drink as well as orange juice and milk. I ended up leaving the hostel later than expected because I got into conversations with several travelers, which was fine with me. First I talked to two girls from Paris who were going to move to Warsaw for a while. I then talked to a young man from Turkey who was studying abroad either in Germany or Spain and was now traveling Europe. I also met some fellow Americans who were backpacking their way through Europe and my American teacher friend from last night.

I got some directions on how to get to the Stare Mietso (I'm predicting I butchered that word and Nove forgive me) and Stare Nove (Old Town and "New Town") using the tram. However, I ended up going in the wrong direction at first, which took me to an apartment complex. I got back on the same tram and took it back, which did take me to the right place. I spent most of my first day exploring the Stare Nove. Every where I walked, I saw plaques in Polish that read "In 1945 500 Poles died here at the hand of the Nazis during the Warsaw Uprising" or "200 died" "400" etc. I then came across a mural, in black and white, which showed skyscrapers in the middle and at the bottom were what looked like ordinary people. In the mural's sky, there were planes, dropping bombs down. I unfortunately didn't take a picture of this but it just blew my mind. Nearby, was a bronz statue of a figure of an un-gendered human being. this figure was positioned lying on a pedestal, with its wrists and ankles positioned like they were shackled. The figure was moving its arms and legs (well at least the way this artist did) as if trying to break free however the torso looked a tad twisted, as if the figure was writhing in pain.

I walked down a few other streets, where I saw bullet holes, and more plaques dedicated to the Warsaw Uprising. The next thing I see, is this gorgeous park, which at one time was a royal park during the 16th century. It has this fantastic gazebo with Roman style columns and a dome for its ceiling facing a man made lake and fountain and surrounded by willow trees. I then encounter statues of what look like Greco-Roman nymphs, gods and maybe even the muses. It is then that I come across another plaque this time in English that said similar to the following: "This is (name of park which I can't remember) which was first built in the 16th century for (the ruler at the time which I don't remember). During WWII, the Nazis destroyed 60% of this park, which was rebuilt after the war."

That sentence caused me to cry. 60% of this park was destroyed then rebuilt-80% of Warsaw was destroyed by the end of WWII and also rebuilt. Yet they did more than rebuild-the people put plaques commemorating those who died, painted murals to remember those people, created statues, like the one with the imprisoned figure that I saw, in dedication to those who bravely fought and died during the Warsaw Uprising. To the many Poles, like my grandfather, who were placed in concentration camps, or risked their lives to support the Polish underground or save condemned Jews. Therefore, I rationed that the rebuilding of Warsaw was more than just a movement forward, but was to also serve as a huge monument to the dead, to the brave who fought to save Poland and its people from distruction-and my grandfather was a part of all this. This is why I cried.

I was so moved I had to sit down on one of the benches. As I wiped my eyes, I decided to people watch. I saw people of all ages-some were children, accompanied by their parents, who looked to be in their thirties and fourties, others were my age in their twenties, and then I saw several individuals who were my grandfather's age if he was still alive. I started to think again about a conversation I had had earlier with one of the employees back at my hostel before I left for the day. I told her why I was in Poland and about my heritage, and I asked her, "How has Poland's history affected your society you feel?" "I was born in 1985 during Communism-a few years later the USSR forced a military coup and we were under martial law. Even though this was the Communists and not the Nazis, it felt the same to us. We don't like talking about the past much, we would rather focus on the present and I think that's why some Poles have reacted in your opinion to your reasons for coming. The past hurts too much."

I looked at the elderly people sitting around me and I thought, these people were probably here in Warsaw, or in one of the surrounding cities when the Nazis occupied Poland. Someone here might have even known my family. I then looked up at the thirty, twenty and forty year olds who were walking past and thought, they were alive during the Communist era and had to live through the restrictions, the martial law and policing enacted by the Soviets. I then started to look at people's eyes, and I had noticed this from most of the Poles I encountered, starting on the bus-everyone above 20 when silent would give a harsh gaze, as if something was bothering them, and I can guess why. Everyone here has lost someone, dear to them, in a horrible way. Probably more than a someone, probably their entire neighborhood, their classmates, a spouse, their children, a sibling or two and never heard from them again. Maybe they even witnessed the atrocity. Some of these people might be holocaust survivors like my grandfather. To these people yeah it's history they want to move on, but privately they live in hell with these horrid memories. I was so moved at this point, I could not cry nor feel angry, but I privately grieved for their losses.

I ended my day by touring a few churches, and the University of Warsaw and then I headed over to a grocery store just to see if there was anything distinct about Polish ones. I also spent time looking in another park, near one of the churches I visited that had a photo exhibit on the social changes and developments the Stare Novo experienced during the 1950s and 1960s. The one I went to was inside a little mall, which had a zukerie or bakery with lots of lovely doughnuts, sweet breads, pastries, cakes and breads and small cookies all in boxes. There was nothing significant about the grocery store, except for the fact that there was only one case of frozen food, and very little dry food. Most foods were fresh or canned. I remember I had an old lady come up to me in the grocery store, asking my opinion regarding the accuracy of her receipt in Polish. All I could say is "I'm sorry but I don't understand, I can't help you." I then toured some book shops in order to look for Polish language didactic books. On my way back to the tram, I encountered a little pierogerie where I decided to have dinner. You find pierogeries all over Poland; most focus strictly on pierogies which is a dumpling filled with meat, cheese, sauerkraut, mushrooms or fruit. However, sometimes these places, like this one I went to in Warsaw, serve other traditional Polish specialities. I was eager to try authentic Polish food, but I also forgot to eat lunch, so I had a feast of meat pierogies, fried pork cutlet or kotlet in Polish (it's a flattened piece of pork that is lightly breaded and fried) with two "salads": one with cabbage and beets and another made with carrots. Like most pierogeries, I had to order at a counter, pay ahead, and my food was brought to me at the table I selected. All food was served on paper plates, with plastic cups for beverages and plastic silverware. I did not care-my pierogies were fantastic, as was my cutlet. I actually enjoyed my "salads" even though I normally don't like those kind (I'm normally a green salad sort of a girl).

I came back to the hostel, full and satisfied with my first day of touring in Warsaw. I spent the rest of the evening talking to other guests at the hostel and watched some tv before bed.

The next day I checked out my hostel and said some goodbyes before I did some last minute sight seeing. Today, I spent time visiting the Stare Miatso or Old Town, to see the reconstructed 18th century section of Warsaw. I first went into the old royal palace. You have to pay a fee of like 8 slotych (roughly $2 however this might have gone up). I spent most of my day touring all the rooms, reading the multilingual displays, and admire the art. Unfortunately you can't take pictures inside, but the art inside was highly influenced by French and Italian Baroque and Classical architecture and interior design. I then went to the history of Warsaw museum, and learned how the city has changed from the its days as a Celtic settlement, to a Roman camp, from its times during the years Poland was the seat to an empire, to its centuries of occupation, to the devastation of WWII. It had lots of artifacts and paintings and nice little models as well as incredible photographs from the WWII era, but unfortunately I couldn't understand it all because my Polish is so rudimentary.

I ended my day wandering through streets and buying presents for my family. I arrived at the train station around 6 PM GMT. My Polish was good enough now to where I could purchase a train ticket for Krakow, however the next train would not leave until 7 PM, which would bring me there by 9:45 PM GMT!

I had a long wait, and at first I was confused as to the location of my platform because both sides were marked the same, but some Polish Americans informed me that both sides were for Krakow. My train arrived, which looked like a train that's been around since the 1960s but the inside looked brand new and very clean-I got into my compartment, found a seat, and decided to do a little reading.

The train ride was pleasant-a lady with a refreshment car came by and offered us coffee, tea and snacks. I didn't take anything, but I remember finding that distinct because that didn't happen on trains in France (well only on TGV trains in first class). The train only made two stops and then it headed to Krakow. Before I knew it, the train stopped and we had arrived.




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