So far, I. and I have had three years of marriage, and this was the first March since our wedding in which we've planned a celebration of our nuptials in advance. Better yet, it was one of the most wonderful celebrations I could have imagined. A distinct advantage of getting married over Spring Break is that our anniversary occasionally falls on Spring Break, and thus, freed from teaching for a week, I joined my husband in a budget airplane as we flew away to the land of my ancestors.
I am more Polish than I ever imagined.
There were many things that made our holiday wonderful, and one of the most major was the opportunity to take a break. I've been working almost nonstop since our wonderful but brief escape to New Hampshire for a weekend last September (honestly, I don't think I even took all day off on Christmas or my birthday) and although I budgeted some time for revisions into our schedule, I spent less time working than I'd anticipated. It was wonderful, and my head was clearer on our return to Scotland than it had been for months.
After an early morning departure for which we might as well have stayed up all night, we stepped off the plane, passed through customs, found the bus and the train, arrived in Krakow, and searched for lunch: pierogies. Pierogies are a particular Polish treat, and one that my mother once used to cook for my Polish grandparents, but where my mom would fill hers with potato, the restaurants in Poland fill them with nearly anything edible: sausage, cabbage, potato, cheese, mushrooms, fruit, sweet cheese, and many combinations of the above. These were our first:
We spent some time meandering around the city centre and down to our hotel (in Kazimierz, the old Jewish district), then dropped off our bags and ventured forth to the museum of pharmacy. I forgot to ask whether we were allowed to take photographs, but erred on the side of forgiveness; the bottles were beautiful! The stairwells were filled with diplomas and other documents celebrating the history of pharmacy; in the main rooms there were hundreds of cabinets containing old medicine bottles and canisters, as well as surgical instruments and early laboratory equipment; the attic featured dried herbs and old seeds; and the basement was devoted mostly to alchemical artifacts.
After our hours in the museum and a long day of travel, we wandered towards our hotel, checking menus en route, until we found an inexpensive little restaurant with simple and inexpensive offerings; we enjoyed these, and went home early to catch up on our sleep.
We started our anniversary with coffee:
The view from our coffee shop: these little stands were scattered around the entire city centre; they sold large soft pretzels (a little tougher than the standard ones, and more like bagels) and big round bagel-like rolls (obwarzanek). Behind the seller is Wawel Castle.
Eventually we reached a decision: as the day was slightly damp, we went south of the river to visit Emalia, once the factory of Oskar Schindler, and now a large and overwhelming museum about Polish life during World War II. The museum was arranged mostly chronologically, with a few rooms illustrating various aspects of everyday life scattered intermittently through the visitor path; after a large and lovely room about pre-war Krakow, we went through a darkened hallway lit by flickering images of battlefronts and soldiers and arrived in the room celebrating Poland's (brief) military resistance, which included the use of tankettes such as this one, about three feet tall:
A few rooms also featured elements of the Schindler factory itself; I think this one was originally his office, and has been preserved as such, although it also features a large artistic installation of pots and pans such as those made in Emalia by Jews during the occupation.
A somber reminder that happy days for us may not be so happy for others:
At the end of the tour, the museum featured a "room of choices," in which they discussed one's potential individual impact upon the lives of others. The first room contained a number of pillars upon which were written acts of good performed by indiviuals during the Holocaust, and the next featured two books, one of (historic) choices made to benefit others, and the other of choices made out of jealousy or fear; the situations were real ones that the residents of Poland faced during the occupation, and the presentation was subtler--I thought--than that in the Anne Frank Huis in Amsterdam.
After four or five hours in the museum, we were famished, so (although we'd already planned to eat supper at a fabulous tourist trap) we stopped at a bakery on our way back to the hotel and ate these charming delicacies (I. thinks they were meringues on the inside).
Poland is known for its flavored vodkas (of which, so far as we can tell, there are potentially hundreds of varieties). On our way to supper, we stopped at a charming vodka shop, in which we could purchase various flavored vodkas in small quantities; our first selection was much like the French liqueur Benedictine (one of our favourites) and may have been made using the same or a very similar recipe.
In addition to vodka, Poland is apparently also known for its amber; this ship was one of the very many amber crafts displayed around the town:
After a few delays, we finally made it to supper. We visited Miod i Wino, a slightly touristy but very awesome restaurant that specialises in traditional Polish dishes (sometimes) served in traditional garb. Our starter was olives and plums wrapped in bacon, and absolutely delicious:
We also tried our first Polish vodka, conveniently arranged in a nice sampler of five. The dark one in the middle is cherry vodka, and the yellower ones on the ends were flavoured with honey and bisongrass (the latter of which was I.'s favourite) but they were all delicious, and much more flavorful than typical vodka.
For our mains, we split a duck (a whole duck!) chopped (with a cleaver) at our table by a waiter in traditional dress. It was delicious! We spent the following day having an indulgent culinary holiday, which culminated in a delicious supper in the Jewish district, in which I ordered an enormous soup (by accident) and a rich and even more enormous main:
The potatoes on my plate (above) are a delicacy known as Krakow potatoes, and are a little like hash browns fried in butter, bacon, and the most delicious spices imaginable.
Friday was a day of somber sunshine: we visited two concentration camps located about an hour's drive outside Krakow. It was startling to be in a place in which so many (hundreds of) thousands of people had died, and think about their deaths, even as the sun was shining overhead in a stunning blue sky and the trees were blossoming into life. We first visited Auschwitz I, which was smaller than I had expected: the camp was made in former Polish barracks, and the buildings, consequently, were solid and well-made (even well-insulated!). We spent most of our time in the camp-turned-museum being hurried down corridors by our tour guide, whose motto seemed to be "festina lente," and I consequently found our time there deeply unsatisfying: there was no time to reflect or ponder, simply time to follow the instructions being broadcast over our headsets as we hurried down halls, turned into rooms, glimpsed the main exhibits and overlooked the supplemental displays and documents, and shuffled into the next rooms and the neighbouring buildings. (This was not our guide's fault; she certainly knew a great deal and had even interviewed a number of survivors; rather, the buildings were so crammed with visitors that even those individuals who had opted to walk about the complex on their own time were pressed through the buildings by the other guests. I am, at least, pleased that so many people took the time out of their lives--and, presumably, holidays, if the many languages being spoken were any indication--to visit this place and reflect upon the lives and sacrifices of those who died there).
One of the exhibits was this urn, which was filled with ashes picked up from the grounds nearby the camp after the war had ended:
At this wall, many people were executed, many of whom were fortunate to die quickly from the firing squad rather than slowly from starvation.
Some prisoners threw themselves upon the electric fences rather than live within the camps; very few of those actually reached the fences (they were murdered instead by the guards who sat in the many watchtowers surrounding the perimeter). Few, if any, approached the fence hoping to escape, for the escape of a single prisoner was punished by the incarceration of any of his relatives still living in the outside world, and also by the death of ten other prisoners from his barrack.
After the war, some of the Nazi officials responsible for the most deaths were brought back to the camps and executed in various humane ways: I believe this is where Rudolf Höss was executed by the comparatively gentle method of hanging.
In an elegant irony, Höss died only metres from one of the crematoriums, in which countless Jews (as well as Polish rebels and members of other undesirable races) were gassed and burnt. Our guide stressed to us the significance of the crematorium's location outside the camp: the condemned walked off the train and straight to their deaths, where those deemed fit for work were sent inside the fence; most of these died only a few months after their entry.
From Auschwitz I, we took a short bus journey to one of the many Auschwitz subcamps, this one (Auschwitz-Birkenau) among the most famous. The railway was built into the camp (passing through its main building) and the passengers, upon arrival, were separated into two groups: those condemned to instant execution would have followed the tracks to the tree line (most on foot, but a few of the more feeble in special carriages), behind which were four crematoriums (now all merely rubble). Hundreds of people now walk this path every day, in remembrance.
Had they had a chance to look back as they neared the end of the path and their lives, this is part of the view they might have had. The end of the tracks is now covered with hundreds of votive candles, as well as flowers and wreaths and other symbols of remembrance.
The space between the nearest two crematoriums (or, rather, their rubble) has been filled in with a large monument, at the base of which is this plaque.
A path leading away from the monument is marked by a string of plaques, each commemorating the Nazis' victims in a differing language.
The rubble of a crematorium: as the Russians approached southern Poland, the Germans demolished as much evidence of their genocide as possible.
We also visited one of the buildings in which the workers were kept, and passed by the kitchens and one of the lavatories. Birkenau was enormous; we learned that people were held in several different parts of the camp, and some of them were specifically kept to send out propaganda to their friends back home, explaining that life there was much less difficult than they had expected. Our guide noted that these individuals would have been dead before their letters reached their addressees.
Being much larger than Auschwitz I, Birkenau presented a much more powerful image of the scope of the Nazis' crimes. The camp stretched away almost further than the eye could see; each building housed more individuals than one might possibly imagine. Intriguingly, much of the camp was destroyed in the years after the war, when former residents of Oswiecim (the Polish town near the German-named camp) struggled to rebuild their lives after they returned home. Impoverished and often homeless, many of them took boards and other building material from the camp barracks to rebuild the homes they had lost.
Our guide urged us, as we finished our tour, to let our time at the camps remind us of the preciousness of life, and to encourage us to live each day to the utmost.
We spent the following day in a less emotive setting, visiting the beautiful Wawel Cathedral located on the edge of the Vistula river (in the Wawel Castle complex). We were, understandably, not supposed to take photographs in the church, so here is a lovely one of its outside:
After a delicious lunch of sausage and sauerkraut, we spent the afternoon (a delightful, warm, sunny afternoon) enjoying various drinks. I sipped this lovely Vienna coffee at a table on the edge of the main market square (a particularly charming part of old Krakow).
We briefly skittered down to a microbrewery that appeared to be patronised primarily by university students (who, during our time, were sipping green beer for the Irish holiday about which I. and I had forgotten, and watching a Polish football match, which we think may have been university-level). Like many establishments in Krakow, the pub boasted a beautiful stone cellar.
They had displays of beautiful old beer-glasses along the walls; these were a few of my favourites:
Afterwards, I spent a little time diligently correcting my thesis, with the benefit of a lovely cup of coffee.
I. and I tried an amazing Ukranian restaurant for supper, at which we discovered an amazing dish that is a sour soup filled with all sorts of goodies including olives and pickles. It was amazing!
We also enjoyed some delicious potato pancakes, both for supper and then for breakfast (on the leftovers) the following morning.
On Sunday, we attended Mass (in Polish) at the big church in the main square. Perhaps because it was Lent, the service was standing room only, and--behind a pillar--we mostly had no idea what was going on (with the exception of the communion, which was fairly self-explanatory). After the service, we stood around in the square to hear the famous Krakow trumpeter play his hourly salute from the tallest tower of St. Mary's church:
It was a beautiful day, so we wandered around the edge of the square, looking at menus, in search of a restaurant that would let us eat soup at one of its outdoor tables. We found one, which afforded both a stunning view of St. Mary's and the square itself, and had more amazing soup, which arrived in two of the largest bread bowls we had ever seen!
Part of our luncheon view; this is St. Mary's church, where the trumpeter plays and also our selected church for the week. It holds at least six services on each weekday and many more on Sundays, and is absolutely stunning both indoors and out:
In the afternoon we went in quest of a hike, passing, along the way, an artistic memorial on the south side of the river. The chairs scattered across this courtyard were built to commemorate the Jewish families who lived in the ghetto very close to this place and who lost their furniture (and much more) under the Nazi regime.
Our hiking quest was successful, and we climbed Kopiec Kraka, one of the man-made mounds around Krakow. The mound itself sat atop a much broader hilly area, which is clearly a very popular destination for picnics and sunset sightings.
Two views from the top:
I. captured my camera briefly.
The following day was our last full day in the city; though it dawned a little cold and damp, we began it with a lovely stroll along the river and a delicious breakfast in the city centre. We enjoyed this view of the castle from the river bank:
Hot dogs for breakfast is one of the most brilliant ideas I've ever imagined; these were a little more like sausages (we had hot dogs as part of our first breakfast) but spectacularly presented. I. had a more traditional meal of cold cuts and cheeses, as well as an amazing cottage cheese (drier and more crumbly than the American varieties, and with smaller bits) flavoured with tiny flakes of pickle. Amazing!
We stopped by the castle again, but had misread its opening hours, and so only walked around the courtyard.
Feeling appreciative of our mild exercise, we stopped in a nearby chocolate shop for two cups of amazing hot chocolate. We speculate that the chocolate portion (on the bottom) was essentially melted from solid; the top was foamy steamed milk, which (I. eventually figured out) was meant to be stirred into the chocolate, which was otherwise so thick as to be essentially undrinkable.
We walked past the Florianska gate (on the north side of the city centre) because we felt we should, and then progressed a little further to a discount market whose vendors sold all sorts of food, plants, clothes, and household goods.
On our way home we passed one of the many restaurants in the city that decorates its windows with cabbage:
After no small debate, we ventured to a restaurant very near to our hotel for our final luxurious supper. We visited the Starka restuarant, where we feasted on plum-stuffed pork sirloin, Krakow potatoes, and celery salad (this last a new favourite of mine). There was a delicious coffee walnut cake with meringue filling to be had for dessert.
The restaurant also promotes its homemade flavoured vodkas--the cranberry one was delicious--which are elegantly arranged at the bar.
The very lovely waitress took this slightly awful photo of us, fat, happy, and relaxed after a wonderful time away.
Shortly after our wonderful trip, I ran away from my wonderful husband to revisit two libraries and attend a conference, the story of which may be told in a future blog post if I actually take any photographs along the way.
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