Poland: Are you Polish? Then why are you here?

Every time I leave Germany, I know that I will be back. I always enjoy being there discovering new elements I had not previously experienced. Even though I love Germany and was a little despondent in leaving, I was really looking forward to exploring a new country. Poland was my 27th country. (I am keeping a chronological list of all the countries I have visited in hopes that I will reach 50 by the time I am 30. We shall see; that means I have 23 countries to see in the next six years.) For many years and a couple of reasons, Poland has been on my list of countries to visit: one, I have a Polish friend from college who absolutely adores her Polish heritage and two, Chicago has a huge Polish community, so I had been intrigued by the Polish culture, mostly Polish food for quite some time ☺ When planning my trip, I knew I had to start in Germany and I wanted to get to Ukraine to visit my college friend who is in the Peace Corps, so Poland seemed like a logical interim place and the perfect time to make my visit happen. One of my college friends, Sarah, who had just completed her masters in England in social policy, (with distiction…way to go, my friend!) was able to meet me in Krakow before returning to the US. (We actually traveled back to the US around one week apart from one another. Funny how schedules can occasionally work out so well.) Sarah’s and my timelines seemed to align so perfectly that we were able to travel around Poland and Ukraine for two weeks.

It was absolutely marvelous: she planned the necessary specifics of the trip and I provided the zany sense of adventure. We complemented one another very well. Planning and coordination are not typically the aspects of a trip in which I excel, unless misadventure is the goal; then I am a professional. Sarah, on the other hand, likes to be prepared and does not relish in not knowing how to get from one place to the next. I really appreciate this about her travel savvy. My contribution was endless optimism and a fresh energy each day. Together we took on two countries and many beautiful and educational sights. Here are the highlights:

Krakow: all the wonders of Europe but on the cheap

Having never been to Poland and having not had much time to research the city, I was pleasantly surprised to see just how fabulous Krakow is. The architecture is remarkable in that it is so intricately fashioned and has the spectacular old feel that I love. Although most cities have similar properties—the gathering of the masses of freaks and geeks and everything in between, the jutting and butting of ideas and innovations, and the cooking and eating of world cuisine—European cities add significant historical architecture, which is hard to find elsewhere to the same extent. What makes Krakow (and it seems Polish cities in general) so exquisite is that few people know that it is more ravishing than most of its Western counterparts because it is four times less expensive and twice or three times less crowded with tourists. This is the inherent appeal of Eastern Europe, which, apart from Prague, remains more or less secluded from the American tourist circuit. Anyway, Poland rocks, hands down ☺
Our hostel, Nathan’s Villa, was expansive and clean with nice bunk beds and a friendly common area. Best of all, it was perfectly located next to the Wisla (pronounced Vis-wah) river, which was a huge boon for me, so I could run while enjoying the perfect, crisp weather we benefited from the entire time we were in Krakow. Since we wanted to see some surrounding sights, we decided to stay the full three days in Krakow: one day for the city, one day for Auschwitz, and one day for the countryside.

One of the best ways to see a city, provided it is available at your local hostel, is through a free walking tour. Generally, the tour guides are friendly, young, and genuinely interested in giving you budget tips on how to navigate the city. On this occasion, we really lucked out with our tour guide. He was outstanding on his own, but then coupled with the professionalism of the tour guide industry in Poland and the quality of the free tours company in Krakow, it was unbeatably the best walking tour I have ever had. At the end of the tour, he passed out maps of the city with budget recommendations for good Polish food and places to see of significance if we wanted to retrace the steps of the tour or venture out on our own at a later date. What a way to commence our visit to the city! Good service was around every corner: we most likely had the best tourist experience ever because of those every-corner helpful people and good maps that facilitated an ease of introduction to the city.

Even though I knew little about the city of Krakow, I knew about its famous environs: the infamous Auschwitz, which was one of the largest extermination camps during WWII. They do not know exact numbers of those who were killed because the dead were not always recorded but simply slaughtered then thrown into a common grave or burned. On record, more than one million Jews, Polish, gypsies, etc. were exterminated at Auschwitz, which is a web of camps and not one singular place. We visited the two main camps where the killing began and where the killing was most extensive—Birkenau—a name that conjures images of fright, terror and mass human destruction.
To know the information and to see the sight are two very different experiences. I do not know what I expected in seeing the remnants, the eviscerated, historical shell of what used to be a center for mass killings. What emotions would the place evoke? Shock, awe, disbelief, and horror are some words I would use to describe how I reacted, but the interesting thing is that I am incapable of truly understanding what those people went through. I am incapable of feeling true and lasting emotions when I look at the photos and read all the information because it all feels so removed and almost mythic now. Never will I understand the people who say the Holocaust never happened (how much evidence they have to refute and how much hate they must have for the people who survived the catastrophe), but I can understand how events like this are repeated. It is almost as if the memory of the true horror slips from reality as soon as the bloodstains are cleaned, the dead are buried, and the survivors fade into the background. Am I irreverent in saying these things? I do not mean to be, but I wrestle with how such a tragic event, one that happened in the lifetime of some of the elderly people I care for, can be so historical and so reduced to a series facts displayed on life-size boards and artful exhibits. Humans are fascinatingly capable of taking incomprehensible events and transforming them into bits of information that we can digest on an everyday level. I suppose that is how history is written: the passionate essence of the incident metamorphoses into black and white letters for analysis at a later date.

Anyway, I am glad that Sarah and I took our time to wander in and out of the exhibits and to read all the information presented before us and to contemplate the magnitude of this occurrence, as bewildering as it is. With a little research, Sarah discovered that we could get into the camps without paying and without a guide if we got there early enough. We took the 7:50 am train that plodded along through the countryside, providing full views of the blue sky and fall foliage and getting stuck on the tracks long enough that we began to wonder if we would make the deadline. Those who reached the camp before 10 am were able to meander through the museum at their own pace without the bother of a large group and guide. For two curious girls, this was much more effective; we went into every room and read almost every caption. I think we spent five hours between the two sights. Auschwitz II—Birkenau was less informative than Auschwitz I, but it was pictorially more affronting. Many of the images we recognize today from the concentration camps were captured from Birkenau: the people herded from the cattle cars and torn from the arms of family members, the big crematorium stacks, the barracks, the barbed wire and somber work fields. On the day we visited Auschwitz, the weather was sublime, absolutely perfect. In fact, the entirety of our time in Krakow, we were bathed in the type of weather that makes you feel invincible and grateful to be right where you are at that moment. Our final day in Krakow, we sauntered about the old Jewish quarter¬—Kazimierz—and apprised ourselves of Jewish customs and history at a former synagogue-now-museum. Happening upon historical quarters that have significant tidbits of information is my favorite part of flipping through the pages of a new city. Each city collects a stack of curiosities onlookers must rifle through to comprehend the hustle and bustle.

That afternoon, we were off to an old Benedictine monastery called Tyniec (I believe it is pronounced Tee-nitz), one of the oldest in Poland. Taking the local bus that the monastery’s website had instructed us to take, we thought we would arrive in short order, but unfortunately, the route had become momentarily impassable due to a bad accident. Actually, we did not know what was happening when the bus driver made the announcement and people started to rustle about.Thankfully, I heard someone speaking in English and inquired what was happening. These two Polish guys who spoke nearly perfect English gave us a rundown of what was taking place. They happened to be going to the same monastery as us, so we formed a troupe of six and made our way on foot along a path that they figured would take15 minutes but ended up taking nearly an hour. Oh, well, it was not too troublesome considering the two Polish guys were quite cute and very friendly.

Before entering the monastery built into a cliff and overlooking the Wisla River, one of the guys informed us that he was going to take a dip into the river and asked if we would like to join him. I could not refuse a dip in the river since I was warm and wearing all the necessary layers to swim more or less modestly. I jumped into the freezing cold water that felt so refreshing on a surprisingly warm day. Who knew there was a monk in our presence and that I more or less exposed myself in front of him when trying to divest myself of my wet clothing? Neither Sarah nor I had any indication that one of our companions was a Benedictine monk, so it was kind of humorous to discover later that bit of information. I do not believe anyone was offended (it is Europe after all) but we had a good guffaw after we left the group.

We made friends with one of the guys who followed us as we frolicked about the premises. The exterior of the monastery was the most beautiful part and an incredible opportunity to appreciate the beauty of something so unlike what we have in the U.S. Sitting in the grass looking up at the high stonewalls of the monastery, Sarah and I talked with our new friend about cultural differences and nuanced opinions about life. It is intriguing how some settings engender a space of openness where all is laid bare in a short while. It was refreshing and wholly enjoyable. Not only did these guys help us get to the monastery, but also they assisted us in finding the bus back to Krakow, which would have been another debacle since there were no signs or indications how to get from the monastery to the bus stop. This is another reason why it is always good to make friends with people who speak the language.

Krakow treated us well, but we needed to move east to get to Ukraine to meet up with our other friend who is volunteering with the Peace Corps as an English teacher. On our way to Ukraine, we stopped in two cities that Sarah had researched and which our Polish friend had recommended to us. In the first city, Tarnow, we hit two days of bad weather, which prevented us from really experiencing the delights of the city and its surroundings. To offset this misfortune, we were blessed with a delightful woman as our couchsurfing host who warmly welcomed us into her home and introduced us to one of her friends who took us on a nice journey to two places we never would have seen had we been on our own: Nowy Saç and Nowy Wicniec (Noh-vee Sanch and Noh-vee Veez-neech). It was perfect to spend time with this lady and her friend because they were so kind and gave us a good impression of the town in spite of the bad weather that inhibited our exploration.
Our final day in Tarnow, we really put our metal to the test. You know the expression: “When it rains, it pours.” Well, I can think of no better expression that demonstrates how plans can go so wrong, especially when it is already raining and less pleasant outside than usual. We woke up with the plan to go to the only painted village in Poland before catching our train to our last destination in Poland. We left the apartment early in order to pass by the tourist information center and get instructions on how to get there by public transportation. The directions were specific, but the form of transportation was not that evident, meaning that we needed to look for an unmarked 15-passenger van to take us to the village. We got to the stop but could not tell in which direction we needed to head and then when we thought we saw the right van (with an 8 by 11.5 inch white piece of paper with what looked like the village we needed), it was getting ready to pull out and we had not even crossed the street. We planned to wait for the next van that was supposedly scheduled for a half hour later, but in looking at the return times, we would not have adequate time to make the visit worthwhile.
Okay, a little disappointing, we decided to try for another sight—a famous wooden church called Zawoda overlooking the city from St. Martin’s Hill. We made it to the bus stop with no problems and jumped on the bus, confirming that it was the right direction heading for the church. Once we got dropped off, some of the old women pointed us in the direction of the church, which was really nice and quite humorous since they did not speak any English but wanted to help us. Before leaving the stop, however, we wanted to confirm the return bus, which ended up being a really good idea because the only bus that fit into our time frame left 10 minutes after our arrival. (The next bus would leave nearly two hours later, for which we had no time to wait.) Basically, we spent the whole morning rushing about the city only to get disappointed around every bend. At least we were able to laugh about it and chalk it up to an old adage.
Before exiting the European Union, we spent the night in a small Polish town called Przymysl (pronounced P-zjem-ish, if you can believe that…oh the fun we had trying to pronounce to no avail the Polish language written before us on maps and street signs), which is roughly 13 km from the border crossing. Trying to find our place of accommodation was quite amusing. After arriving in the city in mid-afternoon, our first stop was the tourist information office where we got some maps and information about the city. (They had quite an extensive amount of pamphlets in English, which was great and quite convenient.)

Our hostel was across the river and about a mile and a half from the downtown area. We found the street with no problems, but in searching for the actual building, we encountered some identification troubles. It went from the number 6 to the number 10, completely skipping our token number 8.
We entered into what looked like the backyard of the number 6 high-rise and wandered around until someone yelled out of his back window telling us where the hostel was located. Even then, we took another wrong turn down a small path until the same guy yelled out in English, “Go through the gate!” What a pleasant surprise! We looked back and waved and said thank you. We stayed in this old rundown hostel where we were the only young travelers and the rest were old construction workers and women learning how to clean and operate cleaning equipment. The rent was cheap and we had the whole room to ourselves. It was excellent for the evening and a perfect reminder of the old Soviet remnants left behind.

When we arrived in Przymysl, it was raining and getting dark. Trying to follow a tourist route around the city, we got lost and did not see much of the city before it got dark and we got hungry.We tried to find a place to eat and managed to find what looked like the Legion buildings you find in small-town America. The tables were set, but the only ones eating were middle-aged and stared quizzically when we entered. At that point, I was quite hungry and just hoped that they would let us sit down and eat. The waitress spoke enough English that she was able to ask us what food we wanted, “Meat, potatoes, cabbage?” Entertaining and very Polish, we were fulfilled by having accomplished what we set out to do: get and eat food ☺
The next day dawned and I ran along the river with the promise of a milder day that would be better for tourism purposes. We followed our map around the entire city, viewing mostly churches, which are the focal points of most Polish cities.

The city was booming with architectural renovation funded by the European Union portending a boom of tourism. The best part of the day, however, was our climb up to the highest point in the city, a small grassy plateau around which a fort was built in the 1800’s. The panorama was spectacular and it did not rain one bit as we took small cow paths and impossibly small, unpaved roads uphill. We tromped around the grassy knolls and stone paths until we were satisfied that we had seen everything of consequence.