To Hel and Back

by Tim Grimes

Poland may not be an obvious destination for a family lakeside holiday, but the Masurian Lakes in the north east of the country must be among the best. I have just returned, with my family, from the lakes and cities of the north east, having flown into, and out of, Warsaw by Lot. We booked our hotels, flights and car hire by internet and telephone, as usual.

We arrived at Warsaw airport to be met by our pre-booked car hire rep - and an unfeasibly small Fiat something a couple of sizes smaller than we had intended with almost 1200cc under the bonnet. Disarmed by the red and white cake iced with a personal welcome to Poland, we accepted the Fiat. A mistake. We should have declined the cake and insisted on something more like a car. Acceleration and aircon are a must, driving on rural Polish roads in the Summer.

In north eastern Poland, pretty well all country roads are either avenues of planted trees bounding open fields, in the French style, or bordered by thick woods on both sides. Smart new green direction signs belied the quality of the roads - rarely more than twice the width of a nasty little Fiat - with cobbled or (rarer) asphalted surfaces breaking up along the ragged soft sandy borders. White lines were apparently an optional extra which was not opted. So driving is inevitably dangerous. Frustration leads drivers to overtake slower vehicles - only fractionally faster - and it is common to be faced with two vehicles approaching side-by-side. When approaching opposite traffic, it is usual to drive in the centre of the road until the very last minute, before swerving into the crumbling margin of the road, to pass - gets quite hairy when your opponent is a 40 tonne truck.

From the map, we had expected a 2 hour journey to the Masurian Lakes. But such was the condition of the roads that 2 hours later we were still only half way in our horrid little Fiat. So we stopped to fall in with a local folk festival, including several men in unfeasibly tight jodhpurs - but, curiously, without a horse in sight - where we sampled pickled cucumbers and sausages of an unspecified meat.

To the untrained ear, most Polish words include the sounds of clearing the throat and spitting, often at the same time, most words look alike and sound alike, mainly because of the predominance of the letters k, d and z, usually unpunctuated by vowels. The grammar is incredibly complicated and the forms of words vary, not only according to the sex of the speaker but also, it seemed, according to the sex of those being addressed. We began to wonder whether the time of day also informed modes of address. It is not a surprise that the inventor of Esperanto was a Pole. Whilst we began to remember the written forms of some words, speaking the language is a challenge beyond the average holiday maker, and fluency does not seem to be expected. The alternatives are pidgin German (in the north east - which put me on even terms with the Poles) or pidgin English elsewhere. But sign language and grunts of the few Polish greetings and thanks, which we had mastered, went a long way.

The unobtrusively efficient Hotel Golebiewski, at Mikolajki, deservedly has the reputation as the premier hotel in the Masurian Lakes. With over 500 rooms, it is lively but certainly not overcrowded. Although the accommodation falls short of 5 star, it is comfortable and clean and boasts a fabulous lakeside setting, close to the bustling and charming resort of Mikolajki. Riding (from almost cavalry standard stables), cycling, and helicopter and balloon flights, are offered to guests at 30% below already low prices, together with all kinds of boat hire on the lakes, from dinghies to yachts, and several lake cruises on larger ships. The massive complex of pools, streams and flumes shares the basement with a night club, games room and squash court.

A silent little Polish girl with blonde pigtails approached us in the games room and gestured a challenge on the one-armed bandits. The games worked without inserting any money and she won hands down. The next day, the little spirit girl appeared at the bowling rink. She lifted the floor boards with a screwdriver, to free the return of the bowling balls. We assumed she had lived in the hotel years before, died (probably concussed by a billiard ball) and returned when need summoned her.

The hotel is 5 minutes’ walk from town, and we were wise to resist a lift from a cycle rickshaw. Returning from Mikolajki one evening we watched the rickshaw driver cycling up the slight incline. He seemed to have aged about 40 years since beginning his journey. Halfway up the slight incline he dismounted, and changed places with a corpulent lady passenger. A few yards further on, the ancient contraption ground to a halt and passengers and driver all dismounted to relieve themselves by the roadside.

Mikolajki is situated at the narrow join between Lakes Talty and Sniardwy. Despite being a purpose built resort, the little town is quite charming and very yachty. Its daytime quiet is punctuated by the chink of sail rigging; at night, it buzzes with the sound of Polish rock music.

Hitler’s Wolf’s Lair is within striking distance of Mikolajki. Hitler’s forward command HQ 1941 to 1945 is highly
commercialised (the SS barracks are now a hotel) and consists of overgrown ruins which, taken together, rather deplete the historic atmosphere. In my opinion, not a must but if visiting, be sure to take the longer main roads, rather than the direct dirt track through the forest.

We also visited Kadiszlowo where we followed a guided tour around the collection of Polish animals. This began with a flock of deer from China, and included what our Polish guide described as “uhu”. Everyone else stared, knowingly, into the uhu’s enclosure, but we couldn’t see any. Linguistic challenges prevented us from asking whether the uhu was out for the day, or just exceptionally well camouflaged. The wolves’ enclosure was interesting too containing, as it did, a couple of dachshunds. It was unclear whether they were keeping the wolves company, or fed them.

Gdansk is just dripping in Flemish-inspired architecture, dating from the Hanseatic times. Although, sadly, the city was largely recreated in the 1950s and 1960s from wartime damage, it is not without an element of authenticity, and is extremely attractive. Before joining Poland in the fifteenth century, Gdansk had been an independent city state, and the most important in the Hanseatic League. It became part of Prussia - and subsequently Germany - in the eighteenth century during the Prussian/Austrian, Russian partition of Poland and remained so (except for a Napoleonic interlude as a city state) until 1919 when Poland re-emerged as a nation and the Danzig Free State was born. The Prussian period saw development of the dockyards - later made world famous by the Solidarity movement (see the poignant memorial at Solidarity Square) - and the railways. The main station has a fabulous neo-renaissance exterior but is uninteresting inside, the original interior having been hidden by modern rebuilding.

The Fascist dominated senate annexed Gdansk to the Third Reich at the beginning of WWII, after a fire fight between German forces and Polish administrators at the old Post Office, where there is a museum. But it was not until the defence of the City, against the Russians, that so much damage was done with, apparently, over 90% of buildings, were destroyed.

We moved to the excellent Holiday Inn right opposite the station on the edge of the Old Town, abandoning the Novotel Marina, with its small rooms and remote location. Dinner was served at the adjacent TGI Friday’s - and so was breakfast. Although we had foreseen Mexican chicken wings with nachos, served by waiters dressed as clowns, breakfast transpired to be a buffet of the quality and diversity which we had come to expect throughout Poland

We had planned to spend 3 days on the Hel Peninsula, attracted by the guide book's description of quaint fishing villages and the extraordinary and enchanting Pekin Hotel at Wladislowow. On our first day, it was clear that the 3 days which we had booked, was too long - not because I was stopped by the Polish police there, for the second time in the holiday - but because the whole place is unspeakably naff, crowded with vested campers riding wally trolleys between street stalls selling tacky souvenirs. Had the peninsula’s name been spelled with an additional l, it could not have been more apt. There may be a reason why travel writers often enthuse about the place, but I have no idea what it is.

Despite the fine, exotic (and out of place) Pekin Hotel, we cut our losses, paid up and headed south to Gniew where we stayed in the Palace of Gniew, in the shadow of the ancient, ruined and extremely spooky, red-brick castle of Gniew. The nearby town of Gniew had plainly not changed from the nineteenth century, except for a few modern shop signs and progressive decrepitude. We overlooked the jousting fields where we imagined the knights of Gniew (which we understood to be pronounced like the Polish for “no” - nye) challenged the nearby knights of Tsciew (which we assumed to be pronounced like a sneeze). In fact we wondered whether this had been the inspiration for a Monty Python sketch. Although the present owners (of only 5 months’ standing) have ambitious plans for the hotel, it is currently more attractive to youth hostellers

We set off for Torun, passing through Chelmno, which is quite a delightful little town - maybe what Gniew aspires to be. Whilst still primitive enough to be the genuine article, it is far better restored than Gniew, with a very fine old town hall, gates and walls - an especially good pizzeria in the large town square. Malbork, on the Nogat river, has the largest of the several Teutonic castles in the area. A magnificent red brick castle, with a commanding tower. We would have spent some time viewing the castle, had the mandatory guided tour not been for 3 hours - in Polish.

Torun is a small walled city full of medieval and later (Flemish inspired) architecture befitting a UNESCO World
Heritage site. Unlike Gdansk and Warsaw, the architecture is original, having come through WWII almost unscathed. The city is encircled by a series of massive brick-built Prussian forts, from the 1870s. Built as a defence of the town, and the then Prussian borders, these forts also saw service in WWI and WWII, first as POW camps, and later as defences against the Russians. Fort 4, now a youth hostel and restaurant, can be visited; others are hidden in deep woodland and, in some cases, military units. The city was home to Copernicus and enjoys the vibrancy of a university town, with several stylish bars and clubs, especially the Sphinx Bar, close to the excellent Gromada Staropolski Hotel where we stayed. It is remarkably free of souvenirs - in fact it is quite difficult even to find postcards.

Sadly, the same cannot be said of all parts of the “Old Town” of Warsaw. Here where the dignity of painstaking rebuilding, after complete destruction by the Germans in 1944, is diminished in parts by an over supply of tacky souvenir stalls, street acts and low grade cafes (which plainly don’t plan for repeat business). Other parts of the Old Town, including the rebuilt royal palace, are still attractive.

Elsewhere, Warsaw has the air of a typical European capital creating, around the Palace of Culture and Science, a modern financial district of skyscrapers consciously diminishing and secluding Warsaw’s version of Stalin’s birthday cake - those oppressive 1950s sovietesque architectural symbols in the gift of the Soviet Union, which dominated the capital cities of many of the former communist bloc satellites. At the risk of political incorrectness, I think the Warsaw example is rather fine. Warsaw’s shops are centred on Marschalkowska Street, with its department stores, and Nowy Swiat full of boutiques, which lead, parallel, to the Old Town.

In Warsaw, we stayed at the massive and modern Holiday Inn (tel. 48 22 697 3999; holiday@orbis.pl), which is very close to the Station and the Palace of Science and Culture, and convenient to tour the city on foot.

Restaurant and hotel prices are generally quite low, but visitors should expect a fee for overnight secure parking. This is recommended as car theft is a threat. Speeding (detected by radars, guns, etc), and other motoring offences very often lead to a police car chase. Speaking no Polish, and playing really dumb, seem to bore the police into driving away without taking any action. An interesting counter-speeding initiative is the presence of cardboard cut-outs of police cars placed at bends in the road!

First published in VISA issue 54 (Jan 2004)

Two Go to Eastern Germany and Poland

by Jerry McCarthy

It was a cloudy Saturday in late September when we set out for our brief drive to Stansted Airport for the start of our two-week adventure driving around Poland and Germany. During the course of those two weeks, we would take in Berlin, Ralswiek in Rügen, Greifswald, Leba, Szczecin and Berlin again. As we were taking an early-ish flight from Stansted, we had decided to stay overnight at Stansted's Hilton Hotel, taking a package which included up to 15 nights of parking. 

Up early next morning to go the terminal, and take our "short flight" to Berlin. (Why are they always described by the cabin staff as "short flights"? Even flying to Helsinki is counted as a "short flight", and that seems plenty long enough to me!)

 We'd planned to spend the night in Berlin, which would allow us to take in a brief bit of sightseeing and, in particular, to go to the Museum Insel to see the Pergamon Altar.

I remember going there several years ago, and at that time, it was a scary adventure involving the taking of a U-Bahn train to a special station, which at the time was full of uniforms and machine guns, going through passport control, and getting a visa, and then walking some distance to the museum. Now, everything has changed, and we could take a U-Bahn or S-Bahn to any station we liked in the former East Berlin, this time to a station within a few minutes’ walk.

We enjoyed a fine afternoon in the museum, took in its features, and then made our way back to our hotel, stopping off on Ku'damm for dinner. As a rule, on arrival at any new city, we always try to get whatever travel card is available, usually for unlimited use on buses, local trains, and subway systems - even if we don't expect to make more than a couple of trips, those couple of trips often mysteriously expand into half-a-dozen, and the cost of the card is easily recovered by not buying multiple single-ride tickets.

Up early next morning for breakfast, and then back to the airport to collect our rental car, which involved extra paperwork to cover ourselves for driving in Poland, including reading and signing warning notices telling us that the danger of theft of motor vehicles was very high in Poland.

This was followed by a bit of nervous driving (strange car, steering wheel in "wrong" place, strange roads, intersections the "wrong" way round). We went back to our hotel to collect our luggage, and set off on the first day of driving north to the island of Rügen, to our Schloßhotel in the town of Ralswiek. Our route, which I had determined using Via Michelin (www.viamichelin.com) turned out to be somewhat hard work. It started on a fine motorway northwards out of Berlin, but suddenly deteriorated into a two-lane road with a variety of quite low speed limits. And then, a dreaded Umleitung (diversion) took us through quite picturesque villages, but we were not all prepared for the appalling state of the roads, including really rough stretches of cobbles(!), which kept speeds down to around 10/15 mph.

Eventually our route again took us onto a really new looking motorway, on which we seemed to be pretty much the only vehicle. This took us to Stralsund and thence to the crossing point to Rügen Island and onwards to Ralswiek to arrive at our Schloßhotel in time for a brief rest and dinner. The dinner itself was something of an adventure, in that the restaurant itself seemed somewhat overheated, so we decided to sit outside. But when we finished our meal, we found that the door back into the restaurant and thence back into the hotel was actually locked on the inside. Fortunately, another hotel guest saw our plight, and let us in! As an aside, my dessert at the meal included a product not found in my dictionary, called Sanddorn - however, I was assured it would be sehr lecker, and fortunately it was (quite delicious).

 We were staying for three nights at this fine hotel, which used to be a privately owned castle, but became state-owned as a consequence of the formation of the DDR and then more recently became an hotel with reunification. Our time there was spent walking in the town (a village really) of Ralswiek, and in the nearby forests and, one day, an all-day driving trip to Kap Arkona. This is held to be the Northern-most point of Germany and is somewhat protected, in that visitors are not allowed to drive there, but must park in the nearby town of Puttgarden, and then walk a few kilometers, or alternatively, ride one of those "road-trains" which seem so popular in Germany and neighbouring countries. At this point we encountered, growing wild, more of this Sanddorn mentioned above - in fact, it seemed to be quite the local thing with Sanddorn candies, Sanddorn jam, and so on, readily for sale. Subsequent research reveals that it is also known as Sea Buckthorn or Hippophae rhamnoides.

Other lunches and dinners took place around the area, and we learned one thing that caused us to be grateful that we had brought plenty of Euro cash. Apparently, your standard Visa and Amex cards are largely unknown - only the "EC Karte" works in most restaurants.

We next made a short journey to the town of Greifswald where I was due to take part in a three-day conference at the University. The first two days were entirely taken up with lectures, and the content of those two days probably won't interest many people here; members of The United Kingdom Slide Rule Circle can read my write-up in the magazine of that organisation!

One amusing aside though was that my wife ordered a "Pepperoni Pizza" in an Italian restaurant, but when it came it had no evidence whatsoever of Pepperoni - just a lot of peppers! We guessed that the waitress had misheard our order, but when the bill came it definitely showed that the pizza was "Pepperoni". It wasn't until the next day that we learned from a local that that is exactly what a "pepperoni" pizza was supposed to be - "In Deutschland ist pepperoni kein Würst!"

The final day's programme was entirely taken up with an outing to Peenemünde, around an hour to the east of Greifswald, where we were given a brief tour of the Rocketry museum, and then offered a coach tour around some of the immediate area. As I had recently had an ear infection, and felt a bit shaken up from the coach ride to Peenemünde, I declined the local coach tour, and instead spent a fascinating hour "doing" the rocketry museum in further depth and detail. If you should ever go there, note that the Rocketry museum is not well advertised, unlike the Museum of German Bedding through which it is necessary to go to enter the rocketry section!

We then moved on to a second complex, the old power station building, which houses a second museum also dedicated to the rocketry aspects, including in-depth descriptions of the functioning of the V1 and V2 rockets.

Kaffe und Küchen (coffee and cakes) in a fine old-fashioned hotel, and a return to Greifswald, completed my three-day conference, and left us again to our own devices.

Our next port of call was somewhat more adventurous, in that we were going to drive to Poland, to the city of Leba. The first hundred miles or so took us down a motorway to a point to the east of Berlin, and it might have been the easiest, fastest 100 miles that I have ever driven - beautiful new road, and hardly any other vehicles. We were somewhat lulled into a false sense of optimism, as the next two hundred miles were really hard work.
The motorway to the crossing point to Poland was notionally two lanes in each direction, but after a short distance, we were transferred to one lane on the westbound carriageway - the eastbound carriageway which we would see across the central reservation seemed to have completely degraded with cracks, and weeds growing up through those cracks. Finally, we got to the crossing point near Szczecin (Stettin) where, unusually for a crossing within the EU, there was a full-blown crossing point with passport checks, stamps in the passport, and a delay of around thirty minutes to get all the cars ahead of us through.

Eventually, however, we got into Poland with a cheerful Djekuje bardzo (“thank you very much”) without complications.

And then the real hard work began. For the first few miles, the motorway was still, recognisably, a motorway (Autostrada, perhaps surprisingly, in Polish), but then it all fell to pieces with miles of reconstruction, and then became basically a one lane each-way road for two hundred miles, with a hard shoulder onto which slower vehicles would pull, to allow overtaking. Being just the equivalent of an A road, it went through all the towns that it went through; there were no bypasses or any means of getting around the towns. Fortunately, our route through the towns was very well signposted, with the name of the next town on the route clearly posted.

One thing we really noticed was that, compared with driving in the U.K., the signs were huge – it was possible to pick them out, read them and get in the correct lanes way earlier than is possible in the U.K.

 Several hours later we got to our hotel, the Hotel Golabek (www.hotel-golabek.leb.pl/eng/index.php) which was beside a quite picturesque canal; parked on the opposite bank of the canal was a warship, which is now a museum (closed during our stay).

Our first day in Leba was spent just wandering around the town, which was, basically, closed. Although it is nominally a bustling seaside resort, we had arrived just out of "the season" and it was very quiet, with just a few families, dog-walkers and hikers on the beach. The main touristic feature of the town was a "Skansen", which term some might recognise from Sweden – basically a reconstructed historical village, which was also closed for the winter.

The next day, we had a plan to go to the nearby village of Rabke to visit the famous "walking dunes" within the Slowinski national park; this involved an hour or so's hike along a quiet road from Leba to a giant car park in Rabke, and then a ride in a "road train" to the Dunes, with no other transport being permitted. A walk along the dunes to the sea, and then back along the beach, brought us to an old German Rocket Launcher site, from which V2 rockets were launched. This is now a museum with many preserved items, and an interesting place to spend an hour or two.

From this Rocket Launcher site, we learned that it was possible to take a boat back to Rabke, so we went down a quay to await the boat, which duly showed up. Whilst awaiting its departure, we fell into conversation with the Captain, an older gentleman, who explained to us a few interesting things, such as, when he was a child, the area in which we were, was part of Germany, and he considered himself German and German his first language. His assistant (his Beifahrer) was much younger and definitely Polish.

He then offered, for ten extra Zloty (Trinkgeld), to take us all the way to Leba, to a point near our hotel. At first we accepted, but, after he had taken us to Rabke, and allowed all the other passengers to get off, I began to have some misgivings. There was two of them and two of us, and he knew that we were Western tourists, and therefore probably relatively well-off - they could just rob us, dump us in the water, and nobody would be any the wiser.

We decided to get off at Rabke with everybody else. We will never know if that was the right decision, or if we could have saved ourselves an hour's walk back!

 The next day was the beginning of our return journey to Berlin and London - we had decided to break the return journey into two days and to stay overnight in an hotel near Szczecin. It was all quite uneventful, and we returned home tired but happy!

First published in VISA issue 72 (Apr 2007)

Warsaw's Golden Autumn

By David Gourley

Poland effectively disappeared from the political map of Europe for well over a hundred years as a result of three successive partitions, in the late eighteenth century, when the country was carved up between its three powerful neighbours, Prussia, Russia and Austria. The Polish region of Galicia, including Krakow, thus came under the rule of the Habsburgs. This was fairly benign and Austria's Polish subjects enjoyed a good degree of autonomy. Their compatriots fared rather less well. Warsaw ended up in the Russian part, following a redrawing of boundaries at the end of the Napoleonic Wars; initially it had been placed under Prussian rule.

Our weekend in Poland was something of a bargain, spotted by Cathy in an edition of the Travel supplement of The Guardian - which, as she likes to remind me, I was on the point of throwing out! For a very reasonable amount we had three nights at Warsaw's finest hotel, The Bristol. One of our two full days was used to visit Krakow, easily reached from the capital by express train. To maximize our time, we travelled out on an early, and returned on a late, flight. Our tickets were from BA so we were a bit surprised to find ourselves flying, thanks to a partnership arrangement, with the Polish airline, LOT. The old Communist era airlines had very poor reputations but things have got better and we had no complaints.

There is, conveniently enough, a bus which runs from the airport straight to our hotel, which gives its name to the nearby bus stop. On the way in we passed Warsaw's most controversial building, the Palace of Culture, an unwanted gift from Stalin. The Bristol, which is about five minutes from the Old Town, did not disappoint. This was one of the grand hotels of Europe but closed towards the end of the Communist era. It reopened its doors in the nineties. Margaret Thatcher, no less, presided over the opening ceremony. I am no admirer myself but it must be conceded that she is widely esteemed in the former communist bloc as the "Iron Lady". Labelling her such was an own goal by the Soviets: the intended insult was relished by its recipient!

Our first objective, once we'd had lunch in the hotel's Viennese-style café, was to get our train tickets for Krakow. This proved to be something of an initiative test. We tried to explain to the rather miserable looking lady selling tickets what we wanted; a knowledge of Polish would no doubt have helped. We let other people go in front of us whilst we pondered what to do. A helpful young chap who spoke English came to our rescue. He explained to the lady what was required and tickets were duly produced. Next problem: we did not have enough cash and credit cards were not accepted (I believe they might have been had we gone to the main booking hall but we had yet to discover this, being instead in a nearby pedestrian subway where there happened to be a ticket office). Fortunately there was an ATM not far away so we soon returned with the requisite number of zloty and at last got our tickets.

We now made our way to the Palace of Culture, which is almost next door to the main station. As can be imagined this has never been greatly loved by the inhabitants of Warsaw. It was the subject of much debate after the collapse of Communism. Many would have liked to raze it the to the ground but a skyscraper is rather less easy to pull down than a statue of Lenin, say. The Palace will no doubt remain a feature of the Warsaw landscape. It is not inherently unattractive but it is of course the associations that people don't like. Fine views over the city are to be enjoyed from the top.

Our journey to Krakow the next day went smoothly. The landscape was very flat: to the east, there are no significant hills until one gets to the Urals. The lack of natural frontiers has helped make Poland a target for aggressors over the centuries. The main station in Krakow is in easy walking distance of the historic centre, reached via the Planty, the parkland which surrounds it. We took an orientation trip on a pony and trap, which introduced us to three main areas: the old Town, which is centred on Market Square; Wawel Hill, with its Cathedral and Castle; and the formerly Jewish district of Kazimierz. We felt sad as we made our way round the last of these and thought of what had once been. The area was somewhat neglected under the communists, who were not themselves wholly untainted by anti-Semitism. In recent years there has, as a result of what has been described as 'Schindler's List tourism', been a revival of interest in this area and its history. We did not see the actual Schindler factory, which is located in the next suburb further out. Many visitors to Krakow travel out to Auschwitz, some forty miles away. This can hardly be a pleasant experience but it is important that people go there for we and future generations must never forget what WW2 was really about: it was a fight against Evil.

We then had a very enjoyable afternoon wandering around Krakow and visiting such attractions as we could in the limited time available. We lunched al fresco in Market Square which is one of Europe's largest squares and is surrounded by many fine buildings. It is virtually cut in two by the huge Cloth Hall but each of the halves is still sizeable. Unlike most Polish cities, Krakow survived WW2 more or less physically intact so this is still a medieval city and one of the loveliest in Europe.

Krakow, and especially Wawel, is regarded as the spiritual heart of Poland. Because of this the Communists viewed the city with a certain amount of suspicion and in an attempt to counter its traditionalism they built a large and rather ugly new town on its outskirts, Nowa Huta. The dominant feature here is the huge steelworks, which we saw in the distance from our train. Initially the authorities refused to allow any churches to be built but eventually gave in to the popular will. One suggestion, perhaps not meant seriously, for the future of the Palace of Culture was to move it to Nowa Huta, on the basis that the two deserve each other. Krakow was of course the Pope's bishopric before he became the first non-Italian pope for centuries. Some see his elevation to the papacy as foreshadowing the demise of communism, in his own homeland and elsewhere.

On the journey back to Warsaw we fell into conversation with a fellow passenger. She was a professional lady, so relatively well-off: she told us about her recent holiday in Canada. Like, I imagine, 99% of the population she did not want the Communists back. She volunteered however that the post-communist transition had not been without its problems and many were suffering from the effects of economic hardship. We mentioned the fact that the woman who had sold us our railway tickets had looked miserable: "she's probably unhappy", she responded, "they may not pay her very much". In her view two people deserved the credit for bringing down the old regime: the Pope and Lech Walesa. I did not disagree but ventured the suggestion that Mikhail Gorbachev deserved a bit of credit too. She was not very receptive to this viewpoint. But it was after all Gorbachev who discarded the Brezhnev Doctrine, whereby the Soviets felt themselves entitled to use brute force, as in Czechoslovakia, to preserve their Empire, substituting the "Sinatra Doctrine": the erstwhile satellites were now free to "do it their way". The conversation was not all political. She told us that the time of year - it was September - is known in Poland as the "Golden Autumn".

The next day was spent exploring Warsaw. I don't think I've ever a visited a city which is so immersed in its own history. Understandably so for even by the standards of the twentieth century Warsaw has had a terrible time. In WW2 it endured five years of Nazi occupation, during which the brave but ultimately tragic uprising in the Jewish Ghetto took place. Then, in 1944, the historic centre was razed to the ground by German troops as they brutally put down the Warsaw Uprising. The resistance had anticipated that the advancing Soviet forces would liberate the city but these stayed the other side of the River Vistula from the city centre. Stalin had his own agenda for postwar Poland: its incorporation into the Soviet empire. It suited his purposes for the resistance leaders, who would have provided a focus of opposition, to be exterminated by the Nazis. We saw the large and moving Memorial to the Heroes of the Warsaw Uprising which is in two parts: one shows soldiers defending a barricade, the other showing them descending into the sewers.

Of all the Soviet Satellite states, Poland was probably the least suited to the Communist experiment. Stalin himself complained that trying to impose Communism on Poland was like trying to put a saddle onto a cow. Communist rule in Poland was never quite as harsh as elsewhere, even during the Stalin area. There was always an alternative power centre ie the Church. In due course there was a third such centre, the Solidarity trade union. In the eighties this was legalized, then banned, then relegalized. At the very end of that decade Poland became the first East Bloc country to have a non-communist Government. The Berlin Wall fell within a few weeks and the rest, as they say, is history.

The Communists are responsible for a lot of fairly dreadful architecture in Poland but they do deserve credit on one count. They meticulously restored the Old Town of Warsaw, brick by brick. Today this looks once more like a medieval city and, in common with the centre of Krakow, it is a UNESCO heritage site. A good proportion of the postcards on sale in Warsaw are of the 'before and after' type, depicting the same places in ruins in 1945 and as they are now, restored to their former beauty. Similar success was apparently achieved in Gdansk, though most other large Polish cities are, according to our guidebook, somewhat dreary with their utilitarian architecture.

Most of the morning was spent exploring the Royal Palace, on the edge of the Old Town. This too was completely destroyed at the end of WW2 but has been completely restored. After lunch, we had a very enjoyable time ambling around the Old and New Towns. We had purchased, at a very reasonable price, a ticket which allowed unlimited use of the city's very good public transport and towards the end of the afternoon we decided we'd better get more value from it. We travelled on the city's metro, which is quite new and at present comprises a single line, running south from the city centre. Then we boarded a tram and went right out to the terminus in the western suburbs.

Some might think it a bid sad to travel to the end of a tube or tram line. Naturally I don't agree and in any case I think this is rather a good way of seeing a city. Certainly we saw a very different Warsaw, the one where most Varsovians actually live, an unglamorous place of high-rise flats, though we noticed some that seemed to have been spruced up. On the way out there was the irritation of a rather badly behaved small boy, whose mother made only fitful attempts to control him. We were pleased when they alighted a couple of stops before the terminus - and dismayed when they jumped back on again at the same stop on the way back. This time however the young lad was as good as gold. What, I wondered, had been the purpose of their trek out into the suburbs - does someone there do 'quickie' personality transplants?

As we were booked onto a late afternoon flight, we had much of the following day in Warsaw as well. We used our time to visit the Wilanow Palace. This entailed another trek out into the suburbs, this time to the south of the city. This looked a rather more prosperous part of the city. Located as it is some way from the city centre, this former royal residence survived WW2 largely unscathed. Not only is the Palace itself interesting but it lies amidst some beautiful parkland. We would have appreciated more time to explore but an eye was now having to be kept on the clock.

Back in the city there was time for lunch in our hotel's Viennese-style café and a quick stroll into nearby Saxon Gardens, another of Warsaw's beautiful parks. Here there is the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. An unknown victim of the defence of Lvov (then a Polish, now a Ukrainian, city) in WW1 is interred there. Various battles involving Polish soldiers are commemorated, including those fought as part of the Allied forces in WW2. There is a permanent guard, which was changed whilst we were there. It was strange to think that these soldiers were part of an Army which is now allied to us through NATO; for most of my lifetime Warsaw had, involuntarily of course, given its name to the opposing military Pact between Communist States.

Poland is hardly a country without problems. Yet its people have found freedom. The country is peaceful and democratic. Indeed it has passed the ultimate test of a democracy - both the last general elections produced changes of government. They are nowadays threatened by no other country; they are at peace with all their neighbours. It was a glorious day. Truly we were witnessing Warsaw's Golden Autumn.

First published in VISA issue 51 (summer 2003)