The last time I entered Poland (in Krakow, Jan'09), I was asked all sorts of questions about why I was there, where I was staying, when I was going back etc. I took it very personally – maybe it was the way I dressed or how I looked. So this time when I entered Poland (in Gdansk), there was a Chinese girl and another Indian girl in the queue ahead of me and they were asked millions of questions (including being asked to sign somewhere so that they could match the signature with that in the passport). Fortunately, I was not asked to sign, but yes, I was asked lots and lots of questions. So i’ve made a resolution – not to enter Europe through Poland ever again.
That unpleasant experience notwithstanding, Gdansk is a really beautiful town – especially the ‘old town’ with its wedding-cake like buildings (that were covered with snow). Gdansk changed hands between Poland and Germany quite a few times. And it was near Gdansk (in Westerplatte) that WWII started. The town was badly damaged during the war – however, it was faithfully reconstructed post the war. And I think the building code is Gdansk is really strict – all the buildings are ridiculously beautiful with the most ornate gables.
The two main streets of Gdansk are Ul Dŀuga (‘Long Street’) and Dŀugi Targ (‘Long Market’) – these two streets (one after the other) are book-ended by the ‘Golden Gate’ and the ‘Green Gate’. There is a pretty Neptune Fountain here that is probably the touristic centre of town. My hotel (right next to the fountain) was on a street appropriately name Ul Piwna (‘Beer’)! Beer nothwithstanding, there was one problem with the location of my hotel. It was also right next to the town hall which had a beautiful bell tower. And like every bell tower, it had bells that went off every hour. During the day, it was all very nice, when there would be carillon-like music that would precede the gongs sounding the hour. But it was a pain trying to get sleep through all that. At 11 when the bells would ring 11 times, I knew that I had an hour to get to sleep before the damned thing went off again...
Gdansk shipyards was where the Solidarnosc movement grew. This was the first non-state Trade Union (headed by Lech Waŀesa) that is credited with the dismantling of communism in Poland. Near the shipyards there is a tall, imposing ‘Monument to Shipyard Workers’ and a great ‘Road to Freedom’ museum that chronicles the ‘freedom’ movement in Poland.
After my last trip to Italy (where I was not able to find a single Indian restaurant), I was not disappointed in Gdansk. My port of call was ‘Masala’ restaurant run by this gentleman from Mumbai. He moved to Gdansk from India 22 years back (where all we Indians manage to reach!) and has been feeding the Poles ever since. I dug my teeth into some great daal and chicken (thankfully not called ‘chicken teeka masala’) there. According to this gentleman till about 5 years back there were only 7-8 Indians in Gdansk. That number has since ‘multiplied’ to 30.
Given that temperatures (even maximum ones) were hovering below zero, it was no surprise to see the river Motŀawa totally frozen. There were some people walking on it and contrary to my non-risk-taking attitude I also followed them onto the frozen river. I left my backpack on the pavement before going onto the river (in case I drowned atleast they would figure out who I was!). Walking on the frozen river was, for me, a very scary experience. Though the ice was firm and solid, there was this nagging feeling at the back of my head that ice might crack and I would sink into the freezing river. And I didn’t even know swimming. Not that it would have helped!
Since the sun used to set quite early, and the sightseeing day was reasonably limited, I went for a movie one evening. It was a French movie with Polish subtitles – so you can imagine how much I understood! But the cinema ‘hall’ was really cute. Basically, chairs were placed in a large room and that was the cinema hall. Besides foolish me, there were 2 other ladies watching the movie – they were least interested in what was happening on the screen as they munched and gossiped for the entire duration of the film (which, for the curious, was called ‘Kot Jaki Jest Kazdy Widzi’).
From Gdansk, I visited Malbork which is about 60 kms south of the town. Malbork is the site of the largest Gothic castle in Europe. Also known as Marienburg, it was the headquarters of the teutonic knights. When I got to Gdansk railway station to figure out tickets for the train journey to Malbork, the lady at the counter spoke no English (and I, naturally, no Polish). So she wrote down the train times to ask me which train I wanted. When I started asking questions about the return journey, people behind me chipped in to translate what the lady at the counter was saying which was really heartening. To cut a long translated story short, I finally was on the train to Malbork. When my train pulled into Malbork, I was lauding the efficiency of the Polish railway system as the train was bang on time (i probably spoke too soon. More on that later). Malbork castle was a lot like the one at Trakai (Lithuania) – the same red brick structure and the feeling of being away from it all.
After exploring the castle, its rooms, and gardens and a nice meal at a local restaurant, I headed back to the train station to take the train back to Gdansk. When I reached the station, I found out that the train was after more than an hour. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t have minded the wait but the problem was that Malbork train station was under renovation and one had to wait outdoors (did I mention that the temperature was around -10 degrees). So I waited and waited. I was oblivious to the announcements that were being made (because I couldn’t understand a word). There were some youngsters nearby who figured out that I didn’t understand the vernacular and took it upon themselves to translate to me every announcement that was being made. I subsequently found out that the train was first thirty minutes, and then forty five minutes, late. By then my body had frozen stiff and I could fear hypothermia and frost bite coming on! After a while another train came and stood at the platform – these youngsters told me that the train would be on the platform for about twenty minutes and suggested that I wait inside the train for fifteen minutes to warm myself. After that train left, I was back on the platform again dreaming of what all I would do when my warm train finally pulled in. Another excruciating twenty minutes later, my train finally came and I was relieved. But my pleasure was short-lived as there was no space on this train. Crowd-wise this train would have given any Indian train a run for its money - except that there were no people on top of the train but there were people crammed everywhere – in coupes, in aisles, in storage closets, and even the toilets. Somehow, with my I-have-to-get-on-this-train look (I just wouldn’t have survived waiting for the next train in the cold!) I did manage to board the train – with all those bodies crammed in, it was warm and my feet and hands did thaw in the train. Through all that mass of humanity, we could all hear one young child (4-5 years old) who was making comments that had everyone in splits. I was very bugged with all this as I couldn’t understand a word of what was being said by the kid that got everyone (literally) rolling in the aisles.
Every time someone wanted to use the loo, there was a great deal of adjustment that had to be made, as the people in the toilet (atleast 3-4 people) would come out and make the crowded aisle even more crowded. Full marks to them for going back to standing in the loo even after someone had just used it!!!
