The day started at 3am. My lawyer for immigration emailed me some documents. I had to print and sign and post back, or get my sister to. I duly got up, and printed the documents but the the printer was out of ink. I collapsed on the sofa. Another precious hour in bed was lost needlessly. I drank my coffee, smoked two cigarettes and my bottom betrayed my calm exterior by sending me to the bathroom many times.
The 5am taxi arrived 5 minutes early and off we were hurtling through the empty motorways to Manchester airport. I checked in, found Gregg's and sat with a tea and a Skype IM chat to Sarah in America. I will say nothing about Ryanair, beyond it got me there and that's all I wanted it to do. The fear of being charged £50 for going a milligram over my baggage meant I chucked things out mercilessly. My weight total was 9kg and I was allowed 15kg. Still it was a joy to carry, when I think I lugged about 17kg for 6 months.
Arrival at Gdansk airport was straight forward. The only ATM that looked available went out of service just before giving me my PLZ 500. This led to a mini panic, strange country, no money, now what? I found another after some searching and I was pleased to check online later that the ATM didn't take the money out on the first unsuccessful try.
The way to get to the centre is easy. If you are unsure when you arrive there, there is a very helpful and friendly English speaking tourist desk. It costs PLZ 3 for a single on the 210 bus. Just turn left out the airport and the bus stops are in front of a black building. Now the 210 bus does not terminate at the airport so ensure you get on the bus with the destination Oruna. The other will take you god knows where. You want to get off at Gdansk Glowny (main rail station). It's clear enough to see.
The journey takes you through some slummy places on the way to Gdansk centre and with the snow on the ground it looks truly depressing. It's Poland in your face.
I chose the Hotel Zappio to stay. Not far from the water and an old merchants house, so the decor is quirky and inspiring. I have definitely arrived out of season as I have a 4 bed dorm all to myself. The mattress is the thinnest but, I had a great sleep. I feared that in cold countries they whack up the heat too much. But not here. I slept with both my legs snugly under the duvet.
On arrival at the hostel, my 3am get up came back to haunt me and I crashed on the bed, and woke some hours later disoriented, and very groggy. I went to explore after waking with an amazing hunger. Without any plan I headed straight to the waters edge, occasionally looking at my map and made my way to Dluga Targ, which is translated as Long Market. On one hand it's an East European central square which you can imagine was once filled with jugglers, dancing bears and fat men swinging mugs of frothy ale. On the other hand it's a little too big to be charming. In fact Dluga Targ, is a microcosm of Gdansk. Gdanks looks like it can't make up its mind whether to be a Munich or a Salzburg, big or charming. Actually a quick look at history and a picture on a wall in Gdansk shows that the street planning was quite out of Polish hands. The tall thin buildings used to be everywhere, neatly compacted. Of course the war (don't mention the war) bombed the shit out of this much needed port on the Baltic, and the wide ugly spaces are more or less bomb craters. Other space made by the Germans during the early 40s, was quickly filled by communist architecture. In one respect, the fact that Dluga Targ is still with us is a wonderful thing.
The Old Town as it is called is sort of ok to wander. However, while Gdansk is walkable your wandering will take you into less attractive areas, then back into a charming one. See paragraph above why.
It being cold, and not wanting to squander money on drink and food just to have somewhere warm to sit, I made my way back to the very comfy hostel. I was in bed at 8:30 and I slept a full 12 hours. With the dorm to myself, the space was amazing and I had time to think clearly.
Saturday I had a few practical tasks. As mentioned at the beginning of this post, I was unable to print out some documents for the lawyer back at home. So the first mission after a wonderful free breakfast and breath-takingly gorgeous hot shower, was to find an Internet cafe. The one I found on google up by the trains station seemed to no longer exist. No matter I was up by the station anyway and purchased my onward ticket to Olsztyn (more about that later). A three hour journey for £9. I will be leaving Gdansk on the 19th. Anyway it was no good, I couldn't find the Internet place so back to the hostel where I was given perfect directions to one much nearer. Also as I needed to post two letters back to the UK, I was kindly shown that Weilka Brytania is Great Britain. This leads me to my first post office experience.
The Polish post office or Poczwa (I think) of Gdansk looked an impressive building inside. However, it's perfectly understandably only designed for Polish speakers. You go inside and a ticket machine gives you three options, in Polish. I chose the one which said "Stamps". This was wrong as the lady at counter C, shouted and wildly gesticulated at me, telling me to sod off to counter B. Of course closer examination would have shown me that counter B which had letters and parcels all around it would have been the good choice. Anyway the lady at counter B spoke at me, and mimed an airplane which was what I needed. She handed me the stamps and stickers then slammed the window in my face and walked away. I coyly tapped on the glass and shrugged in order to mime that I didn't know where to post my letters. She pointed at a wooden box, which looked very inconspicuous. In went my letters. I look forward with interest as to whether they arrive anytime soon.
For lunch I wanted to try a Milk Bar. These, my guide books advise me, are a positive remnant of communism. They are a cheap way to eat a meal. I found a veggie one called Greens. For PLZ 18 I had a huge Enchilada with salad and a coffee. You are served with the same love we received from dinner ladies at school, and the place has school canteen all over it. You sit at benches and clear your plates afterwards. It's a great experience, and a great way to get full on a good meal with a limited budget.
After lunch I walked a further 15 minutes or so to see The Freedom Roads exhibition. The entry of PLZ 6 is good value for what it is. The overall theme is the Solidarity movement as led by Lech Walesa in the 80s. However, what you come away with is a pretty good understanding of Poland from 1945 to present. It starts with Polish lamenting how badly they came out the war. Well I was a bit unsympathetic to that, as nobody came out that good. Their beef I suppose was they didn't come out the other end or recover as quickly as Germany (even East Germany) did. The shops of Poland were empty, and a display shows a typical shop in pre-fall of communism Poland. About as empty as a hermits diary. It showed the treatments of political dissidents, including the prisons they stayed in. Not nice, but I don't think British prisons were very nice in the 50s either. So far, so uninspiring.
The story of Solidarity and the rise of reluctant king, Lech Walesa is almost fairy tale. The electrician and his Shipworker Union who put strikes to good use. Not just for better wages and softer toilet paper, but as leverage to free political prisoners. It was such an ironic smack in the face for Soviet controlled Poland. The Soviet Union, who spoke of the beauty of power in the hands of the workers, had this ethos rammed back down their throat. Polish workers wanted freedom from communism. Now in our travels last year we visited a few ex-commie capitals. It seems that most of them, especially Berlin, Budapest and Bucharest like to think that the fall of communism started there, it's like a latter 20th century badge. I think it happened so quickly and there was so much dissent at the time it's hard to say which straw broke the iron donkey's back. However, this museum puts a good solid case for it being Poland. In which case Lech the sparky from Gdansk, became the man who freed half of Europe. Later Lech was sworn in as the first non-commie President of Poland. Unfortunately, he was better at organizing strikes than running a country and as Poland moved towards wanting to be a major economic player in Europe, Lech seemed inadequate for the role and was replaced. That said from Gdansk airport taking his name to being a national hero, his weakness in government has not hindered his hero status. I quite like the story of Lech.
Lech and Gdansk are the same in another way. Both are unassuming but both have played such an important role in European History. Once called Danzig, under the Germans, there was no way this strategic port town sandwiched between the Prussias, then later Germany and the USSR, was going to be left alone. You'd think the influences would be visible, but I only see Poland in Gdansk. I can't say it looks at all Germanic. It looks like a Baltic port. Their proudest monument being The Crane. The ship crane which is claimed to be the first, sits as a big wooden ugly bastard between golden snug eateries.
My second full day in Gdansk was spent initially making a tactical substitution. While I was set to go to Olsztyn on the 19th, my first choice volunteer hosts got back to me and offered me a bed and food in return for some English teaching. The place is way down in Kluczbork, south west of Poland. I got to the station to check on ticket availability and prices. I had some idea of when I wanted to go, so I wrote it down on a piece of paper and handed it to the nice lady at the ticket office. A ticket was available for £19.15. It leaves at 10:13am and arrives into Kluczbork at 6:43pm that evening, with a 57 minute transfer time in Poznan. I tried to get my Olsztyn ticket refunded but no joy. That is an £8 loss. However, this is being made up elsewhere, as I am now nearer to Krakow if I choose to visit there.
The problem was when I tried to phone my host/employer the phone said something in Polish, and beeped. I didn't know whether it was a voicemail or saying the number is incorrect. I took a chance booking this ticket. Later I googled the school where I would be teaching, made a call to the landline and got through. The lady will kindly be picking me up from the station when I arrive in Kluczbork.
The annoying thing about important stuff to do when traveling. It makes you rush around and fluster, but when it gets done you feel a bit hollow as there is now a day to fill. I filled a few hours reading and lazing, thinking I will go to beach tomorrow. The beach would be the first time I would have seen the Baltic Sea. I sat back, played a bit more tennis on the iPad. Then I saw the tattoo on my right arm. It screamed at me in Korean - "TODAY"! I dragged myself up, swung the camera around my neck and headed out.
It's easy to get to the beach. The area is Stogi Plaza. The number 3 or 8 tram runs south past Gdansk Glowny. The cost is PLN 3 for a single and their are many ticket machines with an English option. As the tram leaves central Gdansk, you see some very run down areas. Big blocks of apartments, many in need of a lick of paint. For some reason the apartments have the blocks name and numbers in huge letters down the side. A god send for a postman, but incredibly ugly. The countryside outside of Gdansk is brown and grey. It seems the severe winter has taken all the colour from the vegetation.
I got off the tram too early and the doors closed before I could get back on. So there I was with at least 2 miles to walk, and dropped in amongst the ugly apartments. I walked briskly, hood up, following my gut instinct as to where the beach would be. It seemed the road was straight and there was little chance I could go wrong again. To the right was this lake which caused me to take a short detour. Completely frozen, it was. The only things poking their heads through the ice, were blackened grass and a few empty bottles of lucozade. My peace by the lake was shattered by a gang of loud kids and a fierce looking dog of no pedigree I know. Mindful of the murderous children in the film Hostel, and noticing my slight isolation, I made my way back to the road.
Several minutes passed. A few trams of which I could have been comfortably sat, had I stayed put, hurtled by. Then the sea was in view. The dunes dabbed in snow, I expected something very isolated. However, when I approached the beach it seemed there is whole seaside industry. Big green bars with the Carlzberg sign. Reasonably maintained playgrounds for the children. This place is still in use. The sands were the finest I've seen since Koh Samui. There is surely a pocket of good season when the families will sit here and swim in this sea, with the dockyard cranes and ships as a backdrop. Yet today there were no swimmers. It was Sunday and I can imagine that as with Britain, the brisk walk to follow church and a big roast dinner, led families to the sea. All of them sheltering behind furry hoods, and 'No Fear' beanie hats.
I dipped my toe in the Baltic then made my way back towards the rusty tram shelter. I caught it back to the town, getting off a little earlier to walk through some more outskirts. That evening I ate at the hostel for the first time. And I had a Polish beer for the first time (in Poland). Finding a beer with just 5% ABV, wasn't incredibly easy, but with the help of the bar man, I found myself a crisp fresh lager. I can't remember the name of it. That evening I had Perogies Ruskie. Lovely dumpling pasta thingies stuffed full of spinach and cheese, and sprinkled with fried onions. Very Polish and very good.
Tomorrow I head south.
The 5am taxi arrived 5 minutes early and off we were hurtling through the empty motorways to Manchester airport. I checked in, found Gregg's and sat with a tea and a Skype IM chat to Sarah in America. I will say nothing about Ryanair, beyond it got me there and that's all I wanted it to do. The fear of being charged £50 for going a milligram over my baggage meant I chucked things out mercilessly. My weight total was 9kg and I was allowed 15kg. Still it was a joy to carry, when I think I lugged about 17kg for 6 months.
Arrival at Gdansk airport was straight forward. The only ATM that looked available went out of service just before giving me my PLZ 500. This led to a mini panic, strange country, no money, now what? I found another after some searching and I was pleased to check online later that the ATM didn't take the money out on the first unsuccessful try.
The way to get to the centre is easy. If you are unsure when you arrive there, there is a very helpful and friendly English speaking tourist desk. It costs PLZ 3 for a single on the 210 bus. Just turn left out the airport and the bus stops are in front of a black building. Now the 210 bus does not terminate at the airport so ensure you get on the bus with the destination Oruna. The other will take you god knows where. You want to get off at Gdansk Glowny (main rail station). It's clear enough to see.
The journey takes you through some slummy places on the way to Gdansk centre and with the snow on the ground it looks truly depressing. It's Poland in your face.
I chose the Hotel Zappio to stay. Not far from the water and an old merchants house, so the decor is quirky and inspiring. I have definitely arrived out of season as I have a 4 bed dorm all to myself. The mattress is the thinnest but, I had a great sleep. I feared that in cold countries they whack up the heat too much. But not here. I slept with both my legs snugly under the duvet.
On arrival at the hostel, my 3am get up came back to haunt me and I crashed on the bed, and woke some hours later disoriented, and very groggy. I went to explore after waking with an amazing hunger. Without any plan I headed straight to the waters edge, occasionally looking at my map and made my way to Dluga Targ, which is translated as Long Market. On one hand it's an East European central square which you can imagine was once filled with jugglers, dancing bears and fat men swinging mugs of frothy ale. On the other hand it's a little too big to be charming. In fact Dluga Targ, is a microcosm of Gdansk. Gdanks looks like it can't make up its mind whether to be a Munich or a Salzburg, big or charming. Actually a quick look at history and a picture on a wall in Gdansk shows that the street planning was quite out of Polish hands. The tall thin buildings used to be everywhere, neatly compacted. Of course the war (don't mention the war) bombed the shit out of this much needed port on the Baltic, and the wide ugly spaces are more or less bomb craters. Other space made by the Germans during the early 40s, was quickly filled by communist architecture. In one respect, the fact that Dluga Targ is still with us is a wonderful thing.
The Old Town as it is called is sort of ok to wander. However, while Gdansk is walkable your wandering will take you into less attractive areas, then back into a charming one. See paragraph above why.
It being cold, and not wanting to squander money on drink and food just to have somewhere warm to sit, I made my way back to the very comfy hostel. I was in bed at 8:30 and I slept a full 12 hours. With the dorm to myself, the space was amazing and I had time to think clearly.
Saturday I had a few practical tasks. As mentioned at the beginning of this post, I was unable to print out some documents for the lawyer back at home. So the first mission after a wonderful free breakfast and breath-takingly gorgeous hot shower, was to find an Internet cafe. The one I found on google up by the trains station seemed to no longer exist. No matter I was up by the station anyway and purchased my onward ticket to Olsztyn (more about that later). A three hour journey for £9. I will be leaving Gdansk on the 19th. Anyway it was no good, I couldn't find the Internet place so back to the hostel where I was given perfect directions to one much nearer. Also as I needed to post two letters back to the UK, I was kindly shown that Weilka Brytania is Great Britain. This leads me to my first post office experience.
The Polish post office or Poczwa (I think) of Gdansk looked an impressive building inside. However, it's perfectly understandably only designed for Polish speakers. You go inside and a ticket machine gives you three options, in Polish. I chose the one which said "Stamps". This was wrong as the lady at counter C, shouted and wildly gesticulated at me, telling me to sod off to counter B. Of course closer examination would have shown me that counter B which had letters and parcels all around it would have been the good choice. Anyway the lady at counter B spoke at me, and mimed an airplane which was what I needed. She handed me the stamps and stickers then slammed the window in my face and walked away. I coyly tapped on the glass and shrugged in order to mime that I didn't know where to post my letters. She pointed at a wooden box, which looked very inconspicuous. In went my letters. I look forward with interest as to whether they arrive anytime soon.
For lunch I wanted to try a Milk Bar. These, my guide books advise me, are a positive remnant of communism. They are a cheap way to eat a meal. I found a veggie one called Greens. For PLZ 18 I had a huge Enchilada with salad and a coffee. You are served with the same love we received from dinner ladies at school, and the place has school canteen all over it. You sit at benches and clear your plates afterwards. It's a great experience, and a great way to get full on a good meal with a limited budget.
After lunch I walked a further 15 minutes or so to see The Freedom Roads exhibition. The entry of PLZ 6 is good value for what it is. The overall theme is the Solidarity movement as led by Lech Walesa in the 80s. However, what you come away with is a pretty good understanding of Poland from 1945 to present. It starts with Polish lamenting how badly they came out the war. Well I was a bit unsympathetic to that, as nobody came out that good. Their beef I suppose was they didn't come out the other end or recover as quickly as Germany (even East Germany) did. The shops of Poland were empty, and a display shows a typical shop in pre-fall of communism Poland. About as empty as a hermits diary. It showed the treatments of political dissidents, including the prisons they stayed in. Not nice, but I don't think British prisons were very nice in the 50s either. So far, so uninspiring.
The story of Solidarity and the rise of reluctant king, Lech Walesa is almost fairy tale. The electrician and his Shipworker Union who put strikes to good use. Not just for better wages and softer toilet paper, but as leverage to free political prisoners. It was such an ironic smack in the face for Soviet controlled Poland. The Soviet Union, who spoke of the beauty of power in the hands of the workers, had this ethos rammed back down their throat. Polish workers wanted freedom from communism. Now in our travels last year we visited a few ex-commie capitals. It seems that most of them, especially Berlin, Budapest and Bucharest like to think that the fall of communism started there, it's like a latter 20th century badge. I think it happened so quickly and there was so much dissent at the time it's hard to say which straw broke the iron donkey's back. However, this museum puts a good solid case for it being Poland. In which case Lech the sparky from Gdansk, became the man who freed half of Europe. Later Lech was sworn in as the first non-commie President of Poland. Unfortunately, he was better at organizing strikes than running a country and as Poland moved towards wanting to be a major economic player in Europe, Lech seemed inadequate for the role and was replaced. That said from Gdansk airport taking his name to being a national hero, his weakness in government has not hindered his hero status. I quite like the story of Lech.
Lech and Gdansk are the same in another way. Both are unassuming but both have played such an important role in European History. Once called Danzig, under the Germans, there was no way this strategic port town sandwiched between the Prussias, then later Germany and the USSR, was going to be left alone. You'd think the influences would be visible, but I only see Poland in Gdansk. I can't say it looks at all Germanic. It looks like a Baltic port. Their proudest monument being The Crane. The ship crane which is claimed to be the first, sits as a big wooden ugly bastard between golden snug eateries.
My second full day in Gdansk was spent initially making a tactical substitution. While I was set to go to Olsztyn on the 19th, my first choice volunteer hosts got back to me and offered me a bed and food in return for some English teaching. The place is way down in Kluczbork, south west of Poland. I got to the station to check on ticket availability and prices. I had some idea of when I wanted to go, so I wrote it down on a piece of paper and handed it to the nice lady at the ticket office. A ticket was available for £19.15. It leaves at 10:13am and arrives into Kluczbork at 6:43pm that evening, with a 57 minute transfer time in Poznan. I tried to get my Olsztyn ticket refunded but no joy. That is an £8 loss. However, this is being made up elsewhere, as I am now nearer to Krakow if I choose to visit there.
The problem was when I tried to phone my host/employer the phone said something in Polish, and beeped. I didn't know whether it was a voicemail or saying the number is incorrect. I took a chance booking this ticket. Later I googled the school where I would be teaching, made a call to the landline and got through. The lady will kindly be picking me up from the station when I arrive in Kluczbork.
The annoying thing about important stuff to do when traveling. It makes you rush around and fluster, but when it gets done you feel a bit hollow as there is now a day to fill. I filled a few hours reading and lazing, thinking I will go to beach tomorrow. The beach would be the first time I would have seen the Baltic Sea. I sat back, played a bit more tennis on the iPad. Then I saw the tattoo on my right arm. It screamed at me in Korean - "TODAY"! I dragged myself up, swung the camera around my neck and headed out.
It's easy to get to the beach. The area is Stogi Plaza. The number 3 or 8 tram runs south past Gdansk Glowny. The cost is PLN 3 for a single and their are many ticket machines with an English option. As the tram leaves central Gdansk, you see some very run down areas. Big blocks of apartments, many in need of a lick of paint. For some reason the apartments have the blocks name and numbers in huge letters down the side. A god send for a postman, but incredibly ugly. The countryside outside of Gdansk is brown and grey. It seems the severe winter has taken all the colour from the vegetation.
I got off the tram too early and the doors closed before I could get back on. So there I was with at least 2 miles to walk, and dropped in amongst the ugly apartments. I walked briskly, hood up, following my gut instinct as to where the beach would be. It seemed the road was straight and there was little chance I could go wrong again. To the right was this lake which caused me to take a short detour. Completely frozen, it was. The only things poking their heads through the ice, were blackened grass and a few empty bottles of lucozade. My peace by the lake was shattered by a gang of loud kids and a fierce looking dog of no pedigree I know. Mindful of the murderous children in the film Hostel, and noticing my slight isolation, I made my way back to the road.
Several minutes passed. A few trams of which I could have been comfortably sat, had I stayed put, hurtled by. Then the sea was in view. The dunes dabbed in snow, I expected something very isolated. However, when I approached the beach it seemed there is whole seaside industry. Big green bars with the Carlzberg sign. Reasonably maintained playgrounds for the children. This place is still in use. The sands were the finest I've seen since Koh Samui. There is surely a pocket of good season when the families will sit here and swim in this sea, with the dockyard cranes and ships as a backdrop. Yet today there were no swimmers. It was Sunday and I can imagine that as with Britain, the brisk walk to follow church and a big roast dinner, led families to the sea. All of them sheltering behind furry hoods, and 'No Fear' beanie hats.
I dipped my toe in the Baltic then made my way back towards the rusty tram shelter. I caught it back to the town, getting off a little earlier to walk through some more outskirts. That evening I ate at the hostel for the first time. And I had a Polish beer for the first time (in Poland). Finding a beer with just 5% ABV, wasn't incredibly easy, but with the help of the bar man, I found myself a crisp fresh lager. I can't remember the name of it. That evening I had Perogies Ruskie. Lovely dumpling pasta thingies stuffed full of spinach and cheese, and sprinkled with fried onions. Very Polish and very good.
Tomorrow I head south.
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