Back to the Edgy Eastern Bloc (Poland)

Rin and I said yet another sad goodbye and parted ways in Paris. She flew home to move to New Zealand, and I flew to Poland.

Poland was a necessary chaser for the likes of Spain and France. And I’m glad I got a chance to get back into the eastern bloc once again on this trip. 

I like depressing countries in the same way I like depressing music and books. In Poland I faced gloomy weather, gloomy people, and their extraordinarily gloomy past. Melancholy by the truck load. This was the country that was spitroasted by the Nazi’s and the Soviets – and that sort of thing will leave you feeling bitter and sore.







Krakow, the mediaeval capital, was my first stop. I had eight days here to get to know the place and do some planning for the coming months. I arrived just in time for the final nights of their Christmas festival, and the first night I wandered the town square and ate spinach, meat, potato, and cheese dumplings, and other local dishes. Above me was the big cathedral with its sharp, pointed spires and the moon looming behind it.

 It didn’t take too long to notice the general sour demeanour of the locals. It reminded me of Russia actually.

On the final night of the Christmas festival there was a rock concert on the main square and I drank beetroot soup while watching a death metal band perform. The whole thing was in polish, but I was surprised when the lead singer started doing the hail Hitler gesture mid song. This, I later found out, is highly illegal, so I guess it must have been anti-nazi lyrics that I couldn’t understand. The shaved head threw me.

Maybe the reason people are so grumpy here is because an hour away is the location of the most notable mass murder atrocity of human history. Or maybe they haven’t forgotten the soviet reign that immediately followed. Or it could be the intense cold weather. Or all three?

I went out to Auschwitz, the biggest and baddest of all the Nazi run concentration camps, referred to as ‘death factories,’ by the Polish. When Hitler went on his mad rampage, the Jewish population of this region were rounded up and sent here and the only way out was through the chimney. 1.1 million people died in this single concentration camp, 90% of whom were Jews. Families arrived together, then the men and strong women were taken one way to work for a couple of months (at most) while the elderly, most women, and the children were led directly to part of the camp that acted as a waiting room for the gas chambers. Some were walked straight from the train to the gas chambers, being told to get undressed and go and wait under the showers that weren’t connected with any plumbing.

We were taken into the gas chambers, and saw the big ovens where the bodies were burned after they had died. We also saw a room with 2 tonnes of hair cut off girls and women before they were killed (Nazis intended to sell it). There were big piles of suitcases, glasses, and shoes. It was such an intense experience that some people on our tour of the facility started to cry.

 

What happened at Auschwitz is one of the most shocking things I’ve ever had to contemplate. But what affected me the most was not the sheer number of deaths, or the horrific way and which they died (the gas was slow and extremely painful). It was seeing the everyday things they had to deal with while still alive, like the squashed sleeping conditions on hard wooden shelves and the toilets (pictured) where they were all marched twice a day to go and were given 20 seconds each. If they were any longer they were yelled at ‘this isn’t a café’ and beaten.

There were a few brief and unsuccessful uprising by the Jewish prisoners who knew they would never get out alive, but generally they were so worn down and utterly dominated that they just followed orders and staggered down into the gas chambers knowing they were about to die.

Auschwitz was liberated by the soviet army who came in from Russia and sent the Nazis packing. Cause for celebration? Yeah, kind of. But just when Poland though it was out of trouble, so began the long and harsh soviet rule. Germany had had its turn, now it was the Russia who could have its way with lady Poland.  Sure, there was no mass murdering to extent of genocide, but life was far from pleasant.

Situated right next to Krakow is Nowa Huta, or ‘New City.’ It is though most distinctly communist place I think I’ve ever seen. It has rows and rows of identical grey apartment blocks for the industrial workers. I’ve seen these apartment blocks all across the former soviet union lands, from Mongolia to Bulgaria, and these were no less depressing. But the thing about Nowa Huta, is that the whole area was designed by the communists from scratch. Its just such an alien way for people to live. In a place like this it would be easy to assume the role as a non-thinking cog in the drear machine. It’s a sickly combination of depressing and boring, exactly what I’d imagine life under communist rule would be like. Its retro dystopic; a George Orwell nightmare.

Back in Krakow I met up with some Australian guys and we went out for a big beer and pork knuckle on the cheap.

Next was Katowice. I’m not sure why anyone would come here. I visited purely to give the bigger, historical towns of Krakow and Warsaw some contrast. I wanted basic Poland working class and I got it. The place had enough of a communist hangover feel that I was happily occupied for a couple of days, and I also had some great food ordered from menu’s I could read. Always fun.

 

Warsaw, the capital, was my final stop and I hit the jackpot. I rented a room in the apartment of a young local guy for three nights and it turned out he lived in one of those depressing communist buildings. Having looked at so many of these ‘human filing cabinet’ apartment blocks in bewilderment, I was finally able to live in one for a few days. In fact, the whole area of the town where I was staying was built in the 50’s and had that same strange vibe as Nowa Huta. By the end of my stay I got so excited when I came around a corner and saw a distinctly depressing building block that it made me feel a little weird. I don’t know why I like seeing this so much. They had become gloriously ugly to me, the drearier the better.

The centre of Warsaw was nice, and the snow dusting on the buildings made some areas look like miniature Christmas town set ups. It all looked quite old but was actually relatively new, seeing as 85% of the city was destroyed in WW2.

It got so cold here that I nearly passed out. It was -14 maximum and despite putting layer after layer of clothes on it quickly became obvious that I did not have the right gear for the conditions. At first my hands and feet stung like they were being scalded, then they just went totally numb and I couldn’t feel or move them. I wore several pairs of socks on my hands (on top of my gloves) the next day.

 

A highlight of Warsaw was the milk bars, which sold cheap, homely Polish food for crazily cheap prices. Apparently, these milk bars are a left over from the communist days (milk for good communist comrades, not alcohol) and are basically the same now as they were then. Typical highlights included pork schnitzel, fried cabbage, potato soup and buckwheat cooked in lard.

The first couple of times I went in the one near me I had to point up randomly at the menu on the wall I could not read, and having to turn her neck to look what I was pointing at was obviously well above the cashiers pay bracket because she was pissed off about it. I decided to take a photo of the menu, and on my final visit I handed her a piece of paper with everything I wanted written down – copied from the menu photo.

And then it happened, after all my time in Poland I finally saw it! In the country of dreary weather and people and past, in the most devastated European city of WW2, in a crumby soviet milk bar filled with people who remember harsh communist regime, the stone faced cashier looked up at me and smiled.