Krakow, Poland

Wawel Castle

I went to Krakow, Poland...left the Night of Valentine's Day, on a night train...boarded the train at 8:55 pm and arrived in Krakow at 5:50 am. The sun wasn't up yet and the city was cold and damp in the fog. Bums loitered in the train station. It was my first time out of the Czech Republic in months and I felt as if I'd stepped out of my own country and into something completely foreign, when, in fact, the Polish language shares many words with the Czech, only slight differences in pronunciation for the basics like hello, thanks, and welcome. I traveled alone, not because I was looking for some quiet reflection time, but because I knew I'd meet more people and see the sites at my own pace, fast or slow.

I had the address to a hostel ("The Stranger") and had written some simple directions to the place. I located the tram, got off at the right stop, walked up and then down a street, went straight to it without a hitch, as my sister would say, "like a homing pigeon." The receptionist booked me in, showed me to my room, and then told me breakfast was almost on the table. I locked up my stuff and then headed down for breakfast in the lobby, where I had to elbow with a horde of stout, hardy German girls who were crowding the food table. Each had two to three bowls of cereal. These girls could eat.

Side Pictures: St. Mary's Basilica (above);Tower opposite St. Mary's in Old Town Square(below)

The reception desk gave me a map and so I set out to wander. The hostel was right on the edge of Old Town, and it didn't take me long to get into the old historical center. I aimlessly walked up the street, stumbled upon Wawel Castle and Cathedral, a hard site to miss, set atop a hill, the biggest attraction in Krakow. I only walked through the grounds that day and looked over the river below; the next day I'd tour the Cathedral, climb to the top of its belfry, and go to the Royal State rooms. Hungry, I sought out a place to eat, went into a cafe which was only a bar, looking for food, where the bartender asked me if I was a teacher. And if my name was Garrett."Umm..yeah, why?" He could have asked if my name was Derek, but nonetheless, it was uncanny. There was a Polish girl, waiting at a table, apparently for an English lesson, from a teacher named Garrett, or Derek. Coincidence...? We cleared the matter up and he directed me next door where I could get a bite.

The best time I had all day was going to the Czartorski Museum. A Davinci, "Lady with an Ermine", was the advertised draw, but the museum was full of other artifacts from Egyptian mummies to Roman busts. There was also a great collection of Polish weaponry: huge broad swords, as tall as myself; heavy, wooden cross-bows; saddles and bridles for war. After I left, it began to pour, heavily, so I went back to the hostel, and as I was drenched, I decided to stay in.

I woke the next morning and went down to breakfast--coffee, cereal, and toast--with a British couple, spoke to the receptionist about another night's stay, and then headed toward the city. I wandered for awhile, hoping to come upon a walking tour, but had no such luck. I did find an office for tours, but they wanted 120 PLN to tour St. Mary's Basilica and Wawel Castle. I'd already been to Mass in St. Mary's the day before, so I figured the tour guide couldn't beat that, and admission to the castle was no more than 20 PLN.

At Wawel, I went into the cathedral first. It's second to the greats--like St. Peter's Basilica--only in its size. The best was climbing to the top of the tower. The skeleton structure of the tower is wood, the outside stone. Some of the beams are more than a foot square. At each level is a bell the size of most European cars. The view at the highest level is amazing: a panorama of the whole city. I walked through the state rooms: expensively furnished, leather wall-paper, a few paintings which I liked, in particular "The Burning of Troy". But otherwise unremarkable.

Views out of the bell tower


Picture of the Castle Grounds

When I got back to the hostel, the "Stag-party", sixteen Brits on what we would call a bachelor party, that'd moved into my room the day before, were warming up for the night. I changed and went down to join them; they'd invited me to go out with them the night before. They were beginning a game of Texas Hold 'em. I got dealt in, twenty-match sticks to each player at a 20 PLN buy-in. Since I was the only one who wasn't a long time friend, I felt I had the advantage, being the wild car of the bunch, at least for the first couple of hands. I made a good bluff in the first hands, which kept me in the game while four others fell out. But when I called the bachelor, with a pair of nines, he got a lucky break on the flop: an ace to match the one ace in his hand. I wasn't out yet, and called him on the next round, since I had a pair of tens, and again he got an ace on the flop. We had to go soon, so the game quickly ended. The night started at a nice restaurant. I had deer and potatoes. We went from there to a few night clubs, and eventually the group slowly dwindled as the night carried on. Having that many guys roaming the streets can be a recipe for disaster, but we managed to stay out of trouble.

In the morning I woke around eleven, had breakfast, checked the times when trains were leaving. The train I wanted left at 12:36. It was 11:59 when I read it. Pack my stuff. Check out. Find the train station. All in thirty minutes. Could I do it? I could give it a shot. After running down the train platform, I boarded at 12:31. Sweating more alcohol than anything. No seats left. It would be an eight hour train ride, with three changes. At my first change, I met a lovely Polish woman, who'd married a man from Austria (she was returning from visiting her mother). She approached me on the platform, because two ruff-lookin' hoodlums were making her nervous, and she said she felt safer staying close to me. Her suspicions were rooted in the fact that the two men didn't have bags; I guess, in her logic, you should never trust people riding trains unless they have luggage. I had a REI multi-compartment backpack, so I obviously radiated trustworthiness. Sound enough. She'd lived in California for a year with her husband who was some type of engineer, so we talked about that and my reasons for coming to the Czech Republic. When she was young, she went to Vienna for school, met her husband, and never left. I assured her that was out of the question for me. Home is Oregon and the West Coast. Once we were in the Czech Republic, however, and Czech was spoken over the intercom in the train, it felt familiar--it felt, well, a little like home. Or as close as you can get when you're a transatlantic, transcontinental distance away.