(Fear not: Scotland post is coming. I just wanted to write Poland first while it's fresh in my mind. We'll backtrack next week! Now, on to Poland!)
Not many weekends can start with "I'm heading to Surbiton Station!" and end with "Now I'm examining a mysterious hole in the inner-thigh region of my jeans while riding in the backseat of a kind stranger's car," but this one did...this one did. Ladies and gentleman: Poland.
Hello!
You found the compass!
After a very hectic night doing last-minute essay writing for my final exams, I got a solid two hours of sleep before leaving for Surbiton Station to catch a 4:25AM bus to Clapham Junction. Planning the trip could have been better executed, but as I was busy with essay-writing (as was my travel companion, Jo) I left most of the planning for the night before. It was stressful, but I got it done. I arranged our journey into London, our transport from London to Stansted, and a car to take us to our hotel in Warsaw from Modlin Airport. Everything was in place, we just had to get our sluggish brains moving.
That early in the morning, trains to London Victoria are few and far between. From what information I could find, we would have ten minutes to run from Victoria Station to catch our bus. It is possible, but certainly not fun after little sleep. We met at Surbiton Station and discovered that there was track construction going on, and we would be taken to Clapham Junction by bus instead. I'd done that before and knew we would still have enough time to catch our connection train, so all went well. We arrived at Clapham Junction just early enough to catch a different train than intended, meaning that not only did we not have to wait at Clapham for 40 minutes, but we also wouldn't have to sprint to our bus. All seemed to be going well. We got to London Victoria about half an hour ahead of schedule, so we grabbed some food and hot drinks before walking to the bus station.
That's when things went downhill.
I noticed that our tickets were for a bus company called Terravision, not National Express. All of the buses showing up were National Express. I decided to ask a driver if he knew where Terravision was. He gave us directions to a nearby tunnel. Seemed sketchy, but sure enough we found the bus stop and even double-checked our tickets to make sure we were in the right place. It was confirmed on the ticket that we were at a Terravision stop, so we sat and waited. And waited. And finally, when our bus showed up ten minutes late, it didn't stop; it drove right past us, despite us standing up and clearly looking lost. Turns out we were at the wrong stop, and we were supposed to be at a stop in front of a nearby building. Absolutely nothing on the ticket told us this. The one crew member from Terravision I found said that the next bus came at 7, and getting to the airport would take about an hour and a half. Our plane was set to leave at 8:30, so the bus option was out. Left with little choice, we hailed a black cab and asked how much it would cost. The driver told us that normally it would be 150 pounds, but he would do it for 120. We told him we couldn't reasonably afford that, so he negotiated down to 100. Fifty pounds each. With really no other choice, as missing the plane would probably be bad, we begrudgingly got into the cab and wept internally for the loss our wallets endured.
Airport arrival went relatively smoothly. There were rude people in the security line who would push people out of their way so they could move ahead faster. (Clearly they didn't understand the concept of "this is a queue" or "everyone is tired and we despise you.") Besides that, we got to the Ryanair gate with ease. That's when I remembered someone had told me that Ryanair is almost always delayed. It's true. We started boarding when we were supposed to be taking off. When we were finally on the plane, I took one picture and fell into restless sleep.
We got to Modlin, breezed through customs, and met with the driver who would take us to our hotel. His name was Chris. He barely spoke English, but had a very friendly smile and looked strangely similar to my Uncle Ed. As we drove through Warsaw, he would point out places we should go and talk a bit about Warsaw history. I noticed that our friends KFC and Pizza Hut had made it to Poland as well, and Jo and I wondered why KFC was so popular. (There are certainly better and cheaper places for chicken!) When we got to our hotel, the Campanile Warsaw, we took much-needed naps, showered, and watched the news while deciding our next plan of action. By then it was nighttime, so we went out in search of Polish food. It was as we were walking around that we became aware that an English-To-Polish phrasebook might have come in handy. Luckily there were enough people who spoke some English for us to not be completely helpless tourists. We found a place on (what we think translates to) New Street, got seats in the windows and ate pierogies with meat. We didn't know exactly what the meat was, but the fact that it tasted similar to haggis was a bit of a turn-off for me (it's decent, but I'm not a huge fan of it). I made it my mission to try pierogi ruskie, the ones with just cheese and onions. (I would fulfill that goal, but not until Sunday night.) That about wrapped up our tiring Friday night.
Saturday morning was an early one. We woke up at 4AM to shower, dress, and wait outside for our taxi. It would be our longest, saddest, most important, and most fun (though the "fun" came later) day in Poland: we were going to tour the Auschwitz and Birkenau concentration camps. Our taxi arrived at 5AM and, to our happy surprise, Chris (or Polish Uncle Ed as I secretly called him) was our driver again! He took us to the train station, handed us our tickets, and waved goodbye from the platform as we sped off towards Krakow. I slept pretty much the entire way, and when we arrived we were met by another driver who took us to Auschwitz. Here begins the history lesson from Auschwitz...
One of the first things we learned about Auschwitz was that, contrary to popular belief, the first prisoners to stay here were German. They were already criminals in Germany and the public were told that Auschwitz was a kind of work prison, hence the phrase over the entrance to the camp. It also held Soviet prisoners of war and Polish political prisoners. If a Polish prisoner escaped, their family members were arrested and brought to Auschwitz until the fugitive was found. The family would stand under a sign announcing why they'd been arrested so that other prisoners knew the consequences of their escape.
As more prisoners arrived, the SS knew that they would need bigger buildings to house the growing population. They put the prisoners to work digging foundations, carrying bricks, and laying cement to create what is now blocks 4-7, 15-17, and 18. Many prisoners died during the work, as they were weak from lack of sleep and poor nutrition.
One of the many torments the prisoners went through at Auschwitz was the infamous roll-call. Each morning, the entire population of thousands of prisoners stood at attention in the streets in front of the blocks while the Nazis made sure everyone was accounted for. The roll call could last for hours.
Our tour brought us to Block 4, which has been turned into the "Extermination" section of the tour. Here, we saw photos and read documents on how the Nazis went about exterminating any "undesirable" people, such as Jews, gypsies, homosexuals, the handicapped, and people of all sorts of nationalities.
Lots of info coming at you...
Auschwitz was the largest Nazi death camp. In the years 1940 - 1945, the Nazis deported at least 1,300,000 people to Auschwitz. They were made of:
1,100,000 Jews
140,000 - 150,000 Poles
23,000 Roma (Gypsies)
15,000 Soviet Prisoners of War
25,000 Prisoners from other ethnic groups.
1,100,000 of these people died in Auschwitz. Approximately 90% of these victims were Jews. The SS murdered the majority of them in gas chambers.
When prisoners arrived by railway, they were sorted by gender and then into groups "fit for work" and "unfit for work." Those found unfit were immediately taken to the gas chambers. Those to be gassed were told they were going to take a bath. They were led to a room with dummy shower heads on the ceiling. On the way, they were told to undress and pick up shampoo and towels, so as not to arouse suspicion. 2,000 victims were crammed into the 251 sq. yard area. When people began getting nervous and tried to leave, they would find the door had been locked behind them. The room was kept warm so the chemical reaction that creates the deadly gas could occur. Zyklon B was poured into the chamber, and after 15-20 minutes the door would open. Nazis had prisoners do the dirty work of stripping victims of gold teeth, hair, earrings, and rings, before destroying their personal documents and taking their bodies to the crematory.
You may be wondering why the Nazis wanted the victim's hair. As it turns out, killing people by the thousands was a lucrative business for them. They would sell the hair to textile manufacturers for more than the cost of running the gas chambers, giving them a profit on the side. It was ethnic cleansing and a morbid business model. Though no pictures are allowed, there is a room in Auschwitz where visitors can see literal tons of human hair that the Nazis had cut off victims to sell. The hair was found by the camp's liberators.
Going back to women for a minute (I'm doing things in order I learned them on the tour, so I apologize if the information seems spastic): though being a woman often meant being immediately gassed, there were designated women's blocks in Auschwitz. From March 26 1942 until August of that year, blocks 1-10 were used as a camp for women prisoners. It was separated from the men's camp by a high wall. About 17,000 women were housed there. During those months, a few thousand women died either in the gas chambers or as a result of poor conditions in the camp (starvation, lack of sanitary facilities, slave labor, rampant epidemics). Anyone still alive in August was transported to the new main women's camp in Auschwitz II - Birkenau. Then, from April 1943 to May 1944, a few hundred women prisoners were held in block 10 of Auschwitz. These women, mainly Jewish, were held in two upstairs rooms and used as human guinea-pigs in sterilization experiments conducted by German gynecologist Doctor Carl Clauberg. Some women died from their treatments, while others were murdered so the doctor could conduct autopsies to further his work. Those who survived were left with permanent damage. After the war, he reinstated his private practice yet continued to openly boast about the "achievements" he made in Auschwitz. Due to public outcry from victims, he was arrested in 1955 but died of a heart attack before going on trial.
Between blocks 10 and 11, the SS shot several thousand people at a wall in the back of a courtyard. Most of those executed were Polish political prisoners, and the leaders and members of clandestine organizations and people who helped escapees. Poles sentenced to death in nearby towns were also brought there to be shot, including men, women, and children who were taken hostage in revenge for Polish resistance. Prisoners of other nationalities and Soviet prisoners of war were also shot there.
Camp authorities designated blocks 19-21 (19 seen above) and 28 as "infirmaries" for sick prisoners. Among prisoners they were known as "crematorium waiting rooms". Medication and treatment facilities were in short supply and many people died anyway. Occasionally, the sick were sorted and those who could reasonably return to work were forced to. Those with little hope of recovery were killed by gas or lethal injection.
After our tour of Auschwitz, we took a quick bus ride over to Birkenau. Birkenau became the main extermination camp, as it contained four gas chambers and crematoriums. I was surprised at how much land Birkenau rested on. I'd pictured it being smaller for some reason. Most of Birkenau is in ruins now, though; Once word of liberation reached the Nazis there, they tried to burn down the buildings and destroy any evidence of what happened there.
One of the gas chambers we got close to was called Gas Chamber and Crematorium III. Several hundred thousand Jewish men, women, and children were murdered there by gas and then burned. The crematorium was also use to dispose of bodies of people who died in the camp for other reasons. It operated from June 1943 to November 1944. As the Nazis wanted to remove evidence of the atrocities that happened, they began to dismantle it and used dynamite to destroy what was left in 1945.
Near those ruins, we came across a memorial to the victims of Auschwitz and Birkenau. There were plaques all down the memorial in many different languages, all saying the same thing:
As our tour looped around Birkenau and headed back to the exit, we passed more ruins and got to go into one of the still-standing barracks. Our guide told us that each bunk was supposed to hold four people, but usually would have six or eight per level. The unlucky people on the bottom level had to sleep in excrement. When walking through the barracks, I gently put my hand on the edge of one of the wooden bunks... it was like touching the physical manifestation of horror. It's difficult to even begin to imagine what went on in Auschwitz and Birkenau, or how any human was able to do such terrible things to others.
When we left Birkenau, I turned to Jo and asked, "Warm food and good vodka?" She agreed that both were necessary after the cold, depressing day. We were given five hours of free time in Krakow to do as we pleased, so we made finding food priority one (we hadn't eaten since waking up at 4am, and it was around 3pm when the tour ended). We found our way to the main square of Krakow, which is gorgeous, and from there found a restaurant called No. 7.
Now, I should mention that currency conversion was in our favor. 10 pounds could, and did, get us a feast in Poland. At this restaurant, I wanted to get some dishes marked as Krakow specialties. I ordered the zlocisty rosol kaczo-wolowy (thankfully English was provided) to start. This soup dish is duck and beef broth with noodles, carrots, and parsley, and it was divine, especially on a chilly day. For my main dish, I ordered kotlet schabowy, which was a pork cutlet served with fried cabbage and Krakow potatoes (potatoes with caramelized onions). The dish that came out made my jaw drop: it was the size of my face. You think I'm joking, but look at this:
If you're in Krakow, go to No. 7. You will not regret it.
Bellies full and spirits restored, we went outside to see what we could see before we had to get to the train station. By the time we'd finished eating, nighttime had fallen on the city. Made for some pretty pictures! We explored the square, went to a cool market in a tunnel in that main building in the square, then went to the galleria mall (conveniently attached to the train station).
After killing time by window-shopping and eating ice cream, we got on the train and discovered that our tickets gave us one of those Harry Potter-like rooms all to ourselves. So, of course, we each claimed a set of seats and promptly fell asleep. I would like to go on a long train ride again in sometime, especially in one of those cars; being rocked to sleep by the train was very peaceful.
We met Chris at the station yet again, and he drove us back to our hotel. We got back at around 11PM, put on the news again, lazed around until falling asleep. We both agreed that we really liked Krakow and wished we'd had more time there. Maybe someday.
Sunday: Our last day in Poland. We woke up, ate at the hotel breakfast buffet, figured out transportation to Modlin Airport with the help of the receptionist (the website was in Polish), and headed into town. As we had our backpacks with us, we weren't going to do much exploring or wander too far from where the airport buses picked up passengers. Where we did wander, we snapped photos of graffiti (which is EVERYWHERE in Warsaw) and talked about the weekend. We ended up stopping in a Mexican restaurant on New Street for lunchtime fajitas, as trying Mexican food in foreign countries has now become an accidental tradition of mine. (Amsterdam's nachos from The Mexican still win.)
One of my favorite things that we found in Warsaw, though didn't go into, was this place. From first glance you might think it's a Mexican place, but no...Ladies and gentleman, I give you Amigos American Steakhouse.
At the end of the day, we got on our bus and headed to Modlin Airport. We ended up catching an earlier bus and getting to the airport three hours early. In bigger international airports, this is usually a good idea. However, Modlin has a whole three gates and it took us ten minutes to pop through security. We did some writing in the airport lounge and waited for our gate to open. I'd bought a bottle of alcohol duty-free, things were great, but then...transportation disaster struck again. That 9:40 flight was gonna be delayed. We figured it was just Ryanair being Ryanair when it was 9:30 and we still hadn't boarded. But then an announcement came on, first in Polish then in English. When the Polish one was done, we saw half of the people at the gate look annoyed so we knew something was wrong. Our plane had been delayed 30 minutes due to bad weather. Not a terrible delay, so all was well. Then, not ten minutes later, another announcement. This time, everyone who spoke Polish loudly groaned. Our plane had been delayed an hour at least. Then another announcement, more loud groaning: anyone who bought alcohol duty-free must return it, as we are being taken to another airport by bus, will go through security there, then leave from there at 12:30. I got in line at duty-free and met a young man named Raphael. He had a Russian accent but had come from Cuba, as he'd been living there for some time. (Father was a diplomat, something along those lines.) We struck up conversation as we returned our alcoholic wares. He was very polite and we talked about school, work, London, typical small talk. I told him I was officially mildly concerned since we would miss the bus from Stansted to London, so on top wasting money on bus tickets I wasn't sure how Jo and I would get home. He asked where we lived, I said Surbiton. In a wonderful happenstance, the woman who was picking Raphael up at the airport lived in Surbiton as well, and she'd be going there after dropping him off. He said he was sure she wouldn't mind giving us a ride, and called to ask. With a backup plan in place, I thanked Raphael profusely. We got out of the line and headed back to the main terminal of Modlin where I introduced Raphael to Jo. Jo, as it turns out, also met a Russian while she was taking a smoking break. His name was Nikita. So me, Jo, Nikita, and Raphael sat in the Modlin terminal and told stories as if we were camping while waiting for our bus to come. We all hit it off fabulously. When the bus finally did arrive, we eagerly got on and kept talking all the way back to the main Warsaw airport. Once we got there, we found out our plane was delayed again and we weren't leaving until 1:45AM. Raphael and I went to grab something to eat at the one place that was open. As it turns out, they had pierogi ruskie! Me and Raphael each ordered some and they got promptly devoured. It was at the last possible minute, but I got my yummy pierogies.
The plane ride was smooth, at least. When we arrived at 4AM, I found out I was right in thinking that the Stansted Express wasn't running. Jo and I took up Raphael's offer and got a ride with him and a nice older woman back to Surbiton. In the car, I noticed a mysterious hole in the inner thigh area of my jeans. I had no idea when it got there or how, as it wasn't even on a seam. Overall, I was too tired to care; It must have been 7AM when we were
finally in Surbiton.
So that's how I found myself examining a mysterious hole in the inner-thigh region of my jeans while riding in the backseat of a kind stranger's car. You now know the story. Well done for making it this far, reader. For now, farewell. (Leave comments! I like them!)
Final aside: The publishing of this blog falls on the 70th anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz. Please take a moment of silence to remember the atrocities of that time.
