Auschwitz Archives - Poland Tourist Information

Chapter 3 – Auschwitz, Krakow & a few beers

This post is part of a series of posts following the adventures of a man on a mission to explore 20 countries around Europe on a motorcycle – go to One for the road.

Chapter 3

High clouds are clearing a late afternoon sun as supper, meatballs, with chips and salad and a Zywiec beer, is taken alone at a long table in a refectory full of many long tables, all adorned with Easter bunnies and other oddments of Christianity. I’ve noticed today the daffodils and yellow tulips and the cemeteries all inundated by new, fresh, brightly coloured flowers.

Across the hall, a family of indeterminate nationality eat their supper, and when they’ve finished they get up and every one of them turns to mouth ‘bye’ to me. It is the youngest girl who pauses to push in the last chair beneath the table before scampering after the others. I can safely presume which nationality they are not.

Auschwitz

Up in my room, I look out of the window. In the dusk, beyond the garden, the road, the land around the SS building, are the headlights of cars driving along the road by the railway line that transported so much immeasurable and unimaginable suffering to many hundreds of thousands of people, and the disbelief is . . . total. Incomprehension, that that is the very same road as can be seen in all the wartime photographs, and the railway which I have been following. This building is sponsored by the Catholic Church, but I can’t help but feel that salvation for the inmates of KL Auschwitz didn’t come via the Almighty, who had ignored it for the previous four years, but via the men of the Red Army.

Krakow

When I reach Krakow, I go straight to the Saski, an elegant old place near the centre with a uniformed doorman and an iron and brass lift and many carpeted corridors along to my room on the top floor. Here, my tiny balcony overlooks a mosaic of lawns and yards, lifeless except for a weeping willow which trails threads of bright new green life down to the sodden ground.

There is no towel, and afterwards, as I stand on the balcony with the chill April air raising bumps on my still-damp skin, there comes a heavy sprinkle of cold water. I look up to see a pigeon preening herself on a trembling branch just above me.

Medieval market square

Every country has its own ‘must-see’ landmarks, and few people walking into Krakow’s medieval market square, the largest such square in Europe, can resist a “Wow!” when they first see the dreamlike setting for the many historic styles of architecture bordering the square.

As I reach the end of the road the market square opens out before me and I mouth a silent, “Wow” – wow because it’s a stunning picture, but silent because I’ve seen it before and I don’t want to do what I did last time, which was to walk into a lamp post as I gazed around.

Cloth Hall

In the middle is the old Cloth Hall, with the two towering spires of St Mary’s church to the left. Straight ahead is the Town Hall tower, while over there is the Church of St. Adalbert, whose foundations are a thousand years old. I stroll a full circuit of the trafficless square, rustling with the murmur of hundreds of tourists going about their lattes and beers.

Tourism

Tourism is Krakow’s main industry, as seven million local and international visitors come here annually, the Poles (the great majority) to admire with pride, the Germans, Scandinavians and Japanese to say, “Wow” at the Gothic, Renaissance and Baroque buildings, the Americans to head straight for the Jewish Quarter, and the Brits to make it their Stag Party Destination of Choice, so that they can hold drinking competitions in which the winner is the first to throw up, and athletic competitions in which the stark naked winner runs a complete circuit of the square the fastest, in front of hundreds of international tourists having their supper and admiring the tranquillity of an evening in what was the European Capital of Culture in 2000.

I make my way to my old café, the ancient Camelot, with its rickety pine furniture and floor and flyblown wartime posters advertising beer and theatres. Keneally in his Schindler’s Ark describes how Schindler’s secretary found a basement bar north of the square where he could hold private parties; ‘an excellent jazz cellar in the narrow streets north of the rynek, the city square . . . popular with the students and younger staff at the university’, and I reckon this it.

It’s down a side street, with the 800-year old Baroque Church of St. John the Baptist and John the Evangelist across the road, its related buildings all around from the Eighteenth Century. I find a seat at a small corner table, and settle in to watch the world go by.

Matchlessly beautiful

You’d think that ‘matchlessly beautiful’ is a sweeping statement to make about a city which is bigger than Glasgow, boasts a vast, scratch-built socialist realist district, a steelworks which when it employed 40,000 people was the largest blast furnace in Europe and whose pollution forty years later is still adversely affecting old Krakow’s buildings and people; and is now Poland’s most important economic centre after the capital.

But you don’t get to be cited as one of Europe’s most beautiful cities for nothing, and while Gdansk, Warsaw, Poznan and Wroclaw all had their ‘old town centres’ rebuilt after the war, in Krakow you get the unmistakably real thing. There seems to be some mystery surrounding exactly how it escaped the same fate as Warsaw, which as everyone knows was flattened in 1945.

Apparently, demolition charges had been laid everywhere but the local Wehrmacht commander simply ignored his orders and went home to his wife, a decision of unimaginable consequence, since the architectural design of the Old Town has survived every upheaval since medieval times, and its almost unparalleled heritage of Gothic, Renaissance and Baroque buildings – Krakow, for centuries Poland’s royal capital, boasts six thousand historic sites – is home to more than two million works of art.

Jagiellonian University

I am sitting within metres of a dozen stunning twenty-something girls, which shouldn’t come as any surprise, since more than 200,000 students are studying here in Krakow’s twenty-four colleges, and at the Jagiellonian University (founded in 1364), with its library of more than 4 million books, and Poland is as famous for its young ladies as it is for its, er, libraries.

I tell the waiter that I’ll have three beers while I study the menu; he misunderstands the situation and brings three sets of cutlery with the beers, while I listen to a conversation going on at the table to my left. A young British man has just started work here as an English teacher, which is a coincidence because I have an interview tomorrow morning not just for the same qualification but at the same school, and his parents have come all the way from Watford to congratulate him on his achieving his Cambridge Certificate of English Teaching. Mark is a football fanatic, and worries them with talk of knives, gangs, the eight deaths (eight?) after a recent game, but that “everyone came together at the Pope’s anniversary, so don’t worry.”

Kasia

“Kasia’s name has eight different endings, depending on the context,” he tells his parents, Kasia being the anorexic teenager sitting beside him, with her huge eyes and pasted makeup, miniscule bra-less breasts, and jeans that are slung so low that occasionally they show her topmost pubes.

Breakfast the next morning is in a McDonald’s. There are fourteen others here, three of whom are in animated argument over a newspaper article, five individuals are studying, and one is reading a novel. None is as old as 30, and this is eight o’clock on a Saturday morning. None of my British friends – the youngest of whom is 28, with most in their 40s – will be up for another three hours. The restaurant itself is immaculate, and every single person clears their table when they leave.

The buds are growing visibly every day. The trees which were black four days ago are now sprinkled with emerald.

I go to a pub recommended by the school. The Stary Port is a basement bar just round the corner, a labyrinth of connected smokey dark rooms. At the table opposite me is a young couple. The boy’s face has deep parenthesises drawn down around his mouth, his skin has suffered bad acne, and a scrubby blond beard doesn’t quite cover it. His eyes, deep set and brilliant blue, are the only kind of eyes that could be set in such a serious and cadaverous face. His greasy blond hair is long, and he draws strongly on his cigarette.

Whatever is troubling him has his girlfriend’s sympathy, and they both sit, watching the candles and the darkness. He could have stepped straight into the uniform of a U-boat captain after a long and hazardous mission. However how important his problems were or were not, he wasn’t putting anything on. He is about 25 years old. His girlfriend brings two beers and a plate of chips. He stares and sucks on his cigarette and says nothing.

I conclude that he too has just been accepted at the language school.

A podgy young man returns from the loo, slides forward, his face on his forearms and his long hair falls across the table. I have already read the slogan on his T-shirt: FAILURE IS NOT AN OPTION.

The next morning, I wake to an ash-blue sky, with the bells of sweet, ancient Krakow tolling the first Mass, and begin to pack the panniers.

Go to Chapter 4

Motorcycle Rental

Auschwitz Cloth Hall Historic Centre Of Kraków Jagiellonian University Krakow Krakow Old Town

polandtravel

January 30, 2023

Chapter 2 – Must wash the socks

This post is part of a series of posts following the adventures of a man on a mission to explore 20 countries around Europe on a motorcycle – go to One for the road.

Chapter 2

I stop for a break at a petrol station, and stand beside the bike, sipping coffee and watching motorcycles and cars and lorries roar along the Czech highway. A dog barks in the field behind the trees, while above, very high cloud the colour of sour milk hides the sun. It’s muggy for April. The reality slowly surfaces, and at last I smile.

I am doing what I’ve wanted to do all my adult life.

Socks

The miles and hours of high white cloud have suddenly been swept away, leaving behind a glorious, sunny afternoon. It’s not quite sleeping-out weather yet, though, so after trundling round the pretty little town of Svitavy in a futile search for a cheap pension I book into a hotel just outside town: £30 for a double room, bathroom, TV, tea and coffee-making facilities, breakfast, air conditioning etc. The view is leftover snowdrifts in the car park and some trees that bring to mind the words ‘acid’ and ‘rain’. Still in a bit of a daze from the hours of noise and wind, I look out at it, thinking, Socks. Must wash the socks.

Oskar Schindler

Well, Oskar Schindler might’ve found Moravia pretty, but it hasn’t been what I would call outstanding, although it’s pretty if you’re from Norfolk or Belgium – indeed, positively mountainous if you come from Holland.

Svitavy was where Schindler grew up in the 1930s, before he went into Poland, where he chose the beautiful Krakow as a base in which to establish a business that would, commercially, go nowhere, but would save the lives of more than a thousand human beings, putting Krakow, the Holocaust and Ran Feinnes and Liam Neeson on the map forever. It was strange, last night, to stroll along the main street and picture the teenaged Oskar roaring up and down the cobbles on his motorcycle.

I think my left heel is beginning to rot. Not only are the holes in the sole getting deeper, but this morning, despite hot water and soap last night, I’m sure I smelt Feet.

Brno

Brno (confusingly pronounced ‘Brno’) is sprawling and ugly. The roads are bad and acid rain has killed or damaged most of the trees on the many hills that surround the city. There have been lots of hares and deer in the fields on both sides all morning, and I remember eight deer lying down in the middle of a huge field beside a German motorway yesterday morning.

Slovakia

Slovakia. On the motorway to Zilina, thousands of dead trees stand in deep water for miles. The road surface is still poor, but there’s a fast-emerging middle class in Czech and Slovakia – smart cars are everywhere.

Bratislava

Despite several circuits of Bratislava I can’t break into the centre, where my bed in The Gremlin hostel is waiting for me. Whole streets are being dug up, and others one way or for trams only. When I notice a group of gypsies lurking in a doorway staring at me as I go by for the fourth time, I know I’m not going to leave the bike unattended even while checking accommodation, never mind overnight. So I do the best thing to do in these circumstances: I give up.

Zilina

I point the front wheel at a sign that says, Zilina 189KM, and settle into the saddle for a three-hour ride. It stops raining, and I smile before nearly jumping out of my skin when a few hundred metres away a Boeing 737 roars up above the rooftops and immediately disappears into the cloud.

It begins to rain again.

Castles

The motorway road surface is excellent now, from which I watch as a number of great castles appear on hillsides to left and right, in this ancient landscape scattered, for some reason, with lots of huge signs, amidst some very evident poverty, inviting us to vote for Rowan Atkinson. Is Mr Bean coming to town?

That’s my man!

I stop for petrol, and then smoke a cigarette while stamping my feet and rubbing my hands together. The back door of a nearby parked car opens and a teenaged girl springs out. She’s pretty, very slim and heading straight for me.

“Hello!” she gushes.

“Hello,” I say, taking two steps backwards.

“You are okay?” she asks in a bright-eyed and bushy-tailed way.

“Er, yes, thank you.”

“You are looking for some place to stay?”

So that’s it. Young prostitute, sent across by her pimp to get trade.

“Well, I am, but I’ll be all right. Thank you.”

She is possessed of an energy that would light up a Christmas tree. She’s also very young, possibly no older than sixteen. She gestures towards the car. “My father would like to buy you a drink.”

Ha! Yeah, I bet he would.

“Your father?”

“Yes. Would you like to meet my father?” She’s wearing tight jeans and a thin, cheap windcheater over a tee-shirt beneath which there is very clearly no bra. Trainers. No make-up. Then the driver’s door of the car opens and a thick-set man of about 45 heaves himself out. Here we go. I drop the cigarette and stand on it as the man, unshaven and dressed in bulky, dark old clothing, approaches.

He speaks rapidly and brusquely to the girl, who answers while gesturing at me. He glares at me as he waits for the translation and my answer. I begin to feel annoyance rising in me, and reach for my crash helmet. Hear what she has to say and then move on.

“My father says that if you follow us to our hotel, he will buy you a beer.” Her English is very good indeed. All those German businessmen, I expect. Lots of practise.

“Your ‘hotel’, eh?” The ‘father’ is staring intently at me.

“Yes. My family is booked into a hotel not far from here.”

I almost sneer. “Your family, eh?”

“My father and mother and my baby brother.” And she points towards the car, where a middle-aged woman and a five-year old boy are smiling and waving through the windows.

Three hours later, I lie in bed in a roadside motel and wonder about Slovakia, Hungary and Romania. The gorgeous Jana spent the whole of supper translating for her parents and me as we chatted in the restaurant downstairs. Her father spent much of the time warning me of gypsies in all eastern European countries. When I asked why he’d invited me for supper, she replied, “Because my father hasn’t had a drink for three months.”

“Maybe I was waiting for a friend.”

“No, he knew you were alone. As soon as he saw you he told my mother, ‘That’s my man!’”

Skalite

Outside, the traffic swishes by on the wet road, while the lonely hills sleep on the horizon.

The clouds are more broken and fast-moving than they were yesterday, so there’s hope for a little sun today. I’ll turn right before the Czech border, to see if the railway at Skalite is the right one. The track heading north out of Zilina looked a bit mainline.

Snow and litter lie everywhere on the verges, strips and sheets of plastic hang or flap in the reeds, a fridge has been thrown down a slope; heavy rain which the sun tries to get through and my first stork gazes out from its enormous nest atop a telegraph pole. Four or five mongrels in a car park queue up to gang-bang a mongrel bitch wearing an expression recognisable as a look of ‘here we go again’ resignation.

Did the railway line branch off for Skalite? Or go north? It keeps coming and going across the road, which begins to climb, and it gets colder. Everywhere looks poor, with children waving sticks and streamers providing the first clue that this is Easter Sunday, along with crowds of people coming out of churches wearing their Sunday best. Very few cars in evidence, and snow is everywhere now. We go over the top, and occasional glimpses of the railway appear to the right, and then the road deteriorates badly and the railway line heads off into the forest on the left, and quite unexpectedly we come to the border crossing. It is absolutely brand new and totally deserted, a quite fantastic waste of money. Then we’re in among houses and cottages, separated by rickety old wooden fences, where chickens scratch and peck.

Country folk

The tarmac disappears and we’re onto cobbles. Here and there, folk are doing this and that, as country folk tend to, every single one of whom looks up at me as I go by – then I understand that the snows would have cut off these roads for the entire winter, for the last five months or so. I am possibly the first motorcycle to come through here this year.

Zywiec

I get lost in the small town of Zywiec (home of one of Poland’s most famous beers; a bit like getting lost in Guinness, Ireland, or Budweiser, USA), and I’m just sitting on the bike, examining the map, when a voice says, “May I help you?” I look up. A man in his twenties, dressed as if to play the part of a young Cambridge don in a BBC mini-series, is smiling at me through John Lenin spectacles.

I tell him what I’m looking for.

“It’s sixty kilometres – about forty of those English miles of yours.”

The railway line comes back, but the potholes are so bad my fingers become completely numb, with vibration white finger. We enter a small town, I see signs I’m looking for and follow them, turn right into a complex and stop. A young man comes up and begins to write a ticket. Beyond him I can see faceless windows, watchtowers and barbed wire fences. It’s not a parking ticket for a traffic violation I’m getting, it’s a parking ticket for a museum.

What the Germans would’ve called Koncentrazionlager 1.

What the rest of the world knows as Auschwitz.

Go to Chapter 3

Motorcycle Rental

Auschwitz Bratislava Brno Czech Republic gypsies Oskar Schindler Skalite Slovakia Svitavy Zilina Zywiec

polandtravel

January 30, 2023

Lesser Poland (Malopolskie)

Lesser Poland

Lesser Poland – updated 19 January 2023.

The Lesser Poland (Malopolskie) region in Poland is located in the south of the country and is known for its beautiful landscapes, rich history, and cultural heritage. The region is bordered by the Silesian Voivodeship to the west, the Lesser Poland Voivodeship to the north, and the Slovakian border to the south.

Tatra mountains

One of the main attractions of the Lesser Poland region is the beautiful Tatra Mountains, which are a popular destination for hikers, skiers, and outdoor enthusiasts. The Tatras are the highest mountain range in Poland and are home to several national parks, including the Tatra National Park, which is a UNESCO Biosphere Reserve. The Tatras are also home to several historic sites, such as the Zakopane, which is a mountain resort town and the cultural capital of the region.

Lakes

The region is also home to several beautiful lakes, such as the Rożnowski and the Czorsztyński, which are popular for swimming, boating, and fishing. The region is also home to the Wieliczka Salt Mine, which is a UNESCO World Heritage Site, and the Pieniny National Park, which is a beautiful area of rolling hills, meadows, and forests that is perfect for hiking and cycling.

Krakow

The Lesser Poland region is also known for its rich history and cultural heritage. The city of Krakow, which is the capital of the region, is home to several historic buildings and monuments, including the Wawel Castle, the St. Mary's Basilica, and the Main Market Square, which is one of the largest medieval town squares in Europe. Krakow is also home to several museums, such as the National Museum and the Wawel Royal Castle, which showcase the region's history and culture.

Traditional crafts

The region is also known for its traditional crafts, such as pottery, weaving, and woodcarving. Visitors to the area can find a wide variety of handmade goods at local markets and shops. The region is also known for its delicious cuisine, which features traditional dishes such as pierogi (dumplings) and bigos (stew).

Industry and commerce

In addition to its natural beauty and cultural heritage, the Lesser Poland region is also an important center of industry and commerce. The region is home to several large manufacturing companies, including the Krakow Industrial Park, which is home to several leading companies in the automotive and electronics industries.

Unique blend

Despite its industrial development, the Lesser Poland region remains a relatively undiscovered destination in Poland. Visitors to the area will find a unique blend of natural beauty, rich history, and cultural heritage that makes it a great destination for those looking to explore off the beaten path.

In conclusion, the Lesser Poland region of Poland is a hidden gem that offers a unique blend of natural beauty, rich history, and cultural heritage. The Tatra Mountains, the Wieliczka Salt Mine, and the Pieniny National Park are perfect for outdoor enthusiasts, while the traditional crafts and delicious cuisine of the region, and the historic buildings and monuments of Krakow are perfect for those looking to experience the local culture. The region's industrial development also makes it an important center of commerce in Poland. It's a destination that should not be missed for those who are interested in exploring Poland.

FAQ

Q: What is the Lesser Poland region of Poland known for?

A: The region is known for its beautiful landscapes, rich history, and cultural heritage. The Tatra Mountains, the Wieliczka Salt Mine, and the Pieniny National Park are popular destinations for outdoor enthusiasts, while the traditional crafts, delicious cuisine, and historic buildings and monuments of Krakow are popular among those interested in experiencing the local culture. The region is also an important center of industry and commerce in Poland.

Q: What are some popular things to do in the Lesser Poland region?

A: Popular activities in the region include hiking and skiing in the Tatra Mountains, visiting the Wieliczka Salt Mine, exploring historic buildings and monuments in Krakow, experiencing traditional crafts, and trying local cuisine.

Q: What are some popular traditional crafts in the Lesser Poland region?

A: Traditional crafts in the region include pottery, weaving, and woodcarving. Visitors to the area can find a wide variety of handmade goods at local markets and shops.

Q: What are some popular dishes in the Lesser Poland region?

A: Popular dishes in the region include pierogi (dumplings) and bigos (stew). The region is also known for its delicious cuisine, which features traditional dishes such as kiełbasa and kaszanka.

Q: How can I get to the Lesser Poland region?

A: The region is located in south of Poland. The main city of the region is Krakow, which can be reached by train or bus from other major cities in Poland. The region is also easily accessible by car and has good road connections.

Q: Are there any national parks in the Lesser Poland region?

A: Yes, the region is home to several national parks, including the Tatra National Park and the Pieniny National Park. Both parks offer beautiful landscapes, hiking trails, and opportunities for outdoor activities, as well as several historic sites.