Gdynia to Warsaw via Malbork Castle

We're wrapping up the trip, there was a lot of driving today. We left Gdynia around 8:30, with the sun finally pouring through the sky (after three days of fog and rain). A few hours later, we arrived at Malbork castle, former residence of the Teutonic Knights. In my opinion, this is one of the coolest places we've visited yet. It's one of the most heavily fortified defenses you'll ever see, there are two moats and multiple walls, drawbridges with assault areas, everything. The guide who showed us around started every other sentence with "In case of an attack...", demonstrating all the defense possibilities. The Knights were an interesting bunch — at the time, essentially fighting monks. The place is laid out with so much thought, it's incredible. There's a central heating system, waste control for disease prevention, efficient and beautiful rooms everywhere... and In its modern incarnation, as a museum of sorts, it's really well laid out. There is so much history everywhere, and everything has a little story associated with it. For example, in the main "ballroom", or dining room, there was a cannonball stuck in the wall. Apparently, a few hundred years ago, there was an assassination attempt on the head Knight. They were all having a meeting, and someone tried to hit the single column in the middle of the room, trying to collapse the roof. They missed (obviously), but not by much. I'm sure the would-be-assassins outside the city walls were hunted down and slaughtered. Another one of the rooms was full of amber: the knights, when they were in control of the area, took control of the amber trade and hoarded a ton of it. One of the pieces on display had a huge air bubble inside it, maybe the size of my thumb — think how old the air is inside there. After that visit, we had some great soup and Beef Stroganoff at the nearby Restauracja Zamek.

Random observation of the day: The United States is slowly invading Poland. Normally, everything here costs some full number of złotys (10, 20, 2, etc.) I saw a sign for Pizza Hut, and it's 19,90 for a pizza. That extra 90 grosze are going to kill peoples pockets with change.

Random Polish oddity: All the light switches here are big panels you put pressure on. I have yet to see an American light switch. It's very elegant, but disconcerting.

Rydzyna to Toruń via Poznań

Waking up in a castle is a lot like waking up anywhere else. Maybe it's just because the ghosts didn't bother me... either way, I got a slow start around 7:00 and headed downstairs for breakfast with grandpa. The light coming through the windows was overwhelming — it was pouring through the curtains onto all this antique furniture and place settings, I didn't know what to do. So I just sat down and grabbed some food. A little salmon, some tea and eggs, a short walk outside to survey the lake, and I was restored from my recent royal rest. We went for a short tour before leaving the castle. We started in the games room — there were a few too many baby deer skulls on the wall for me, and in due time we moved on... Most of the rooms had some small architectural element that was preserved and built around, like a pearl, with the exception of the ballroom. The ballroom was gorgeous all around — frescoes on the ceiling, sculptures on the wall, 1.5 ton bronze and crystal chandelier from a church...

Leaving Rydzynia, we passed the small marketplace and it's "Cultural Center", a miniscule building that reminded me of Los Alamos-style Mexican architecture — something about the frills on the top of the facade.

Arriving in Poznań, we passed a few of the universities — primarily focused on economics, and one music hall. There was also a monument built for the various rebellions by Polish workers against the communist government, and a statue of the much loved Polish poet Adam Mickiewicz. Then we headed over to check out the Cathedral Basilica of St. Peter and St. Paul, burial place of various Polish rulers (including Mieszko I, who shows up on the 10 złoty note). It was interesting to go below ground and see where they'd dug up the rulers, but there were also some really beautiful chapels inside the cathedral. One that seemed to attract a lot of attention was circular, covered in paintings and gold leaf, but I was really interested in the ornate lettering on some of the plaques. I love seeing the Polish and Latin scripts spread around liberally.

From there we headed over to the market square to see the infamous goats. Yes, from the Town hall, every day at noon, emerge two robotic goats. They butt heads a few times (in remembrance of an old story about the opening of the marketplace) before returning inside. It's great to hear the school children nearby counting off each butt in Polish.

We had some free time, so I wandered around a bit. I found a nice little księgarnia with a dictionary of Polish etymology. I've been looking for one, but, as is to be expected, it's completely in Polish. So I'm going to have to learn a bit more before I can understand the origins of those simple, beautiful words that stick in my head... "deszcz", "księżyc" and the others that keep coming.

Grandpa and I met up with Ania and Wojtek, relatives of grandpa's highschool friends. Ania's studying architecture nearby — we talked about art, architecture, language, culture, history, our mutual disdain of politics... although she probably found out more about me than I of her — a rarity.

Back on the bus, in a few hours we arrived in Toruń — hometown of Copernicus. Finally, after a few days we have an internet connection, so I'll be working backwards and forwards from today (the midpoint of the trip), and by the end this little blog should form a semicoherent whole.

Highlights: The morning light at Rydzyna, conversation over lunch, żubrówka over dinner.

Wrocław: The Square, Panorama, to Rydzyna

Opening the window around six in the morning, Wrocław was covered by fog. As usual, we had breakfast and headed out for a quick bus tour. The first thing I noticed was the thriving underground art scene — which is to say, there was a lot of graffiti. But it was really unique graffiti, there was quite a diversity in styles even amongst the tags (those quick black signature-type pieces). One of the fellows on the tour used to spray graffiti in America, and said that Germans and the Dutch were known for their graffiti — maybe it's rubbed off on the Poles as well?

The first place we stopped was this large "spire", a huge metal needle (a hundred feet at least) — apparently it was placed there for some sort of art exhibit nearby, and the people liked it so much it was never taken down. The guide explaining this to us, Waclaw (sounds like "Vatslav"), was particularly entertaining — he would ask us not to call him Wrocław, remind us that we "may attack with questions", reccomend where to go for the "biggest and most picturesque portions of ice cream in Western Poland", and inform us that the animals in the oldest zoo in Poland "have been looking at visitors since 1865".

After the bus tour we went to the Panorama of the Battle of Racławice, a 50 foot tall, 370 feet wide painting wrapped in a circle around a center viewing platform entered via tunnel. The painting depicts one of the first battles of the Kościuszko uprising, an attempt in 1794 to free Poland from Russian control. A veteran of the American revolutionary war (less than two decades ago), Kościuszko had some experience keeping unwelcome relatives away and defending radical new constitutions (Poland's constitution, the first in Europe, was passed only three years earlier on May 3rd, signaling serious improvements in universal political equality and government responsibility). With only a quick glance at the painting, it's hard to tell who's winning — in the end, the Poles successfully defended Racławice, despite their numerical disadvantage. More happens after that, of course, it's a much longer story, but I find it incredible how many times the Polish have been persecuted for simply defending the country's borders, while they cling to their eternally progressive ideology. I'm reminded of "Misread" by the Kings of Convenience:

How come no one told me
all throughout history
the lonliest people
were the ones who always spoke the truth?
The ones who made a difference
by withstanding the indifference...

Only a few hundred feet away from the panorama there's another reminder: a memorial to the 21,857 soldiers killed by Stalin in the Katyń massacre of 1940 — a sculpture depicts mother Poland pleading with the angel of death over a dead Polish soldier, shot in the back of his head.

We left the panorama and monument for the academy. Like a lot of other buildings, it was mostly destroyed by a 80 days of Russian bombing, but has been reconstructed since then. It held some of the most intricately detailed rooms I'd seen yet. One of them was meant to be a lecture hall, which seems completely unreasonable. I don't know how I would pay attention to a lecturer in a room like that. Another room, a concert hall, was a little less magnificent visually, but had wonderful acoustics. And it pretty much made my day to know that Edvard Grieg had once played in that same room.

From the academy we went to the market square for some free time. I looked around for a little, climbed the 302 steps of the tightly-wound spiral staircase at a nearby cathedral... but I needed to think about some things, so I did what I normally do: picked a direction, and started walking. After four or five blocks I was out of the main commercial district, and I came across bigger streets and an underground. The underground kept going, so I followed it, eventually led into a mall (I found out later that this is one of the biggest malls in the area). It was two o'clock, a little past lunchtime, but I couldn't find any distinctly Polish food. I didn't feel like sitting down, so I found a little "food court"-style restaurant that looked like they were making good food. I managed enough Polish to order a calzone without the cashier asking me to repeat myself. Still hungry, and now cocky as well, and tried to order a banana smoothie from the fresh juice stand. But my cover was let down... totally mispronouncing "bananowe", the girl smiled and asked, in English, if I'd like it in a big or small cup.

Returning to the square, a crowd had started to gather: a few hundred dreadlocked and buzz-cut students protesting political-religious involvement in the educational system, holding signs like "Jestem nieochrzczona" ("We are not baptized"), "Jestem ateista", "Jestem anarchista", and "Jestem pacyfista". They seemed kind, the first thing they said to everyone with their megaphone was "Dzień dobry!" ("Good day!"). A few policja stood away from the crowd, ensuring the peace was kept (a testament to free speech in Poland).

We all met up by the water fountain near the center of the square, and packed up once more to make our way towards Rydzyna, where we'd be staying at the castle overnight. Most of the castle is pretty cool — the rooms themselves are a bit large and minimalistic (I liked it, even if it's not very "castle-like"), but the exterior, hallways and lobby are all beautifully 17th century baroque. One of the coolest things is that, after being burnt during WWII, it was restored by locals. The Association of Polish Mechanical Engineers spent 19 years, starting in 1970, to reconstruct it from original photographs and plans.

After settling down in the castle, we walked maybe half a mile to a little cottage with a fire ring where we had dinner. A local folk band came to play, a family: a fiddler, accordionist, guitarist, and a little girl no more than 7 with a beautiful and unusually mature voice. She also played tambourine and made up her own dances &mash; a total performer, someone gave her the nickname "Britney Spearski". Despite the plague of mosquitoes, I had a good time, and even learned how to dance the polka and waltz from one of the ladies in our group. Being one of the few guys, this was probably a mistake, considering I didn't really get to sit down after that.

By the time we started walking back it was pretty dark, with the exception of the moonlight. I stood just outside the doors of the castle with a few people who were smoking while we finished a conversation. I forget what we were talking about, but something funny happened I'll remember for a while. While I was standing there, two girls walked by about thirty feet away. I glanced at one of them for a moment, and she looked away. I realized: everyone gets a first look, but it's the second one that counts: if you have decent timing, and catch them in the middle of the second look, you can elicit a wonderful blush. While still blushing, she sat down with her friend on a nearby bench. It was facing the other direction, but she promptly turned around and put her head on her arms, which were crossed on the back of the bench, giving me googly eyes for however long the conversation with the others went on. I finally went inside, giving her a little wave and a "dobranoc" — I don't think I've ever seen someone wave back so vigorously before.

Australian slang of the day (from Danuta):

• lashing (LASH-ing) — raining (I have a feeling this is just a British English usage I haven't heard)

Kraków: The Wawel and Wieliczka

We began the day with a bus tour through Kraków. In Warsaw, Kuba told me it's one of the bigger tourist attractions, while a Polish friend in New York tells me "it's just a bunch of old bricks", so I wasn't sure what to expect. It felt a bit like Warsaw, but older — the streets were more narrow, the architecture more traditional.

After driving around a bit, we went to the Wawel, Royal castle in Kraków (which was the capital of Poland until 1596, when King Sigismud III moved it to Warsaw). Supposedly, this castle was built on top of a dragon's lair. The legend goes that, early in Kraków's history, this dragon would regularly torment the countryside, killing farmers and eating young girls (which he especially liked). To appease the dragon, young girls were sacrificed at the mouth of the cave every so often. Eventually, there weren't any more girls left except one — the king's daughter, so the king decided to give his daughter as a wife to whomever might slay the dragon. Of course, many tried and failed, until one poor apprentice had a bright idea: he stuffed a lamb with sulfur... the dragon ate it, and could not satisfy his thirst — drinking half the Wisła! Promptly exploding, the dragon was defeated, and the apprentice was married to the king's daughter.

The castle itself is like a small town, there is "Sigismund's chapel", the main residence, and plenty of other little shops and homes within the walls. The main residence, which is now a museum of sorts, is incredible — there are so many paintings, tapestries, sculptures, pieces of furniture... everything. The final room we visited was the largest, with patterned marble floors, leather walls, chandeliers, candelabras by some thrones at one end, tapestries on the walls, engraved ceilings. The acoustics were to die for. If I was a poor peasant a few centuries ago, I might have aspired towards a more affluent position simply to attend the dances and concerts held there.

The cathedral holds the tombs of many members of the Jagiellon family, Polish royalty. One particularly interesting tomb was that of Jadwiga, a saint and monarch who was known for her charity (she donated her dresses, jewelry and various other items to help restore the Academy in Kraków, she founded hospitals etc.) She was very young when she died, maybe 25 years old, and was said to have had blue eyes and blonde hair — a beauty frozen in time above her coffin.

From the Wawel we headed to the market square to see St. Mary's Basilica, a 1,000 year old cathedral. Every hour a trumpeter plays the hejnał from the top of the basilica, stopping mid-note about 30 seconds into the tune. This is based on a children's story by J.P. Kelly where he tells of a trumpeter being shot through the throat by invading Tatars in 1241 — a story with no historic support, but it's a wonderful tradition.

The market square in Kraków is one of the most lively in all of Poland. I counted at least 6 street musicians (and a few groups of them), crowds of people, smartly dressed students, the long "cloth hall" in the center, filled with merchants with local goods and items imported from the mountains nearby, as well as a plethora of restaurants. For lunch I went with Jane to a Georgian restaurant. She's great, every day (sometimes twice) we'll have the same conversation:

Jane: So, is this your first time to Poland?
Me: Yes.
Jane: Do you like it so far?
Me: Yeah, there's so much beauty and tradition here — and a different kind than what I'm used to in America.
Jane: I love it here. This is my tenth visit.
Me: Wow.
Jane: When I tell my friends I'm going to Poland, they always ask me "What are you going there for?" But I just look at them and laugh.

Anyway, I don't think she realized it was a Georgian restaurant, and was just assuming that every ethnic-looking restaurant must be Polish. I have a soft spot for their alphabet and figured I'd take a break from all the Polish food for a moment. It wasn't bad at all; I'm no food expert but from my meal and the others I saw nearby, I'd say it's distinctly Eastern European, but reminiscent of popular Greek cuisine.

After meandering around the square for a while, we left for the Wieliczka salt mines. A few hundred feet below the surface, they have thousands of kilometers of man-made caves, many of them filled with salt-sculptures, salt-chandeliers, salt-everything. It's one of the quietest places I've ever been. It would be amazing to hear someone record an album in the largest room, St. Kinga's Chapel. They should really invite Sigur Rós, Explosions in the Sky or Godspeed You! Black Emperor on down.

Tomorrow we leave for Zakopane, in the mountains of Southern Poland.

Poor translation of the day (from the sign outside our dinner restaurant):

• "You are hungry and thirsty, our business is to find remedy."

Warsaw: Łazienki, Jewish Ghetto, Royal Castle and Market Square

We started the day with a drive around Warsaw — over to Łazienki park to see the sculpture of Chopin, Poland's beloved composer. It's incredibly romantic: he's sitting under a willow tree, bending with the leaves and the wind, eyes closed. It reminds me of something my Ghanaian drumming professor once told me: "Sit down. Listen... to the wind. There are two sounds you hear: one, there is a tree, two there is no tree." Leaving the park, I noticed a sculpture of Józef Piłsudski, a Polish revolutionary who helped restore the Polish state to unity 123 years after it was partitioned by Napoleon.

After the park, we drove through the former Jewish Ghetto, where the uprising took place in 1943 (one of the events described by The Pianist). Almost everything is completely restored, but you can still get a feeling for what happened if you walk around.

We stopped by a cathedral or two, and then headed towards the Royal Castle (Zamek Królewski). Our guide was this old, eccentric Polish man with wisps of white hair around his temples and a well trimmed beard, "from a poor peasant family in the mountains." The place is packed with tapestries, statues, busts, paintings, and covered in marble and gold leaf. Some of the tapestries were huge, maybe 40 feet long and 20 feet tall; it would take a year to produce just one square meter. One of the guest rooms was occupied by Napoleon as he came through Warsaw, and they keep his desk in there. All sorts of things have been donated to the castle — the desk was donated by the French, who, according to our guide, "give out a new desk of Napoleon's every year". That's not as bad as the American donations, which were busts of people like George Washington and Benjamin Franklin — our guide kept sarcastically muttering "bloody American imperialists...", but with such a smile that made it hard to feel insulted.

From the castle we stopped by two cathedrals on our way over to the old market square. There's a little theater in one corner of the square, part of a small museum on the 1944 rising and World War II, they show a short film every hour or so, it was really crazy to see footage of the old town during the war, and then walk back outside to the restored city all around. I meandered around for a while after the movie, finding Kamienne Schodki and the statue of the youngest soldier in the Home Army.

After the Old Town visit, we took a short break and went to a Chopin recital by Robert Skiera at the Szuster Palace. He played all the well-known pieces, and threw in a few others as well. It's the first time I've heard "Revolution" sound like a war cry rather than a lament.

Australian slang of the day (from Danuta):

• pucy (PYOO-see, adjective) — weak, no good
• piker (PIE-kuh, noun) — chicken, coward