Train Troubles

I think everyone has that one city that only seems to deal them negative vibes, mine is Katowice. Close to the border with Czech Republic, Katowice is a Polish industrial town and the likely connection stop for any train transport headed through the western border. Being that it is such a hub, you would think they must have a pretty nice station right? Negative Ghostwriter. As I may have mentioned in my last post, Katowice train station is the pits. Confusing, dirty and full of unpleasant shady people, if you find yourself changing trains there, beware.

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As I was making my way to Krakow, my nifty EuroCity train came to a halt in Katowice. From there I knew I had to purchase a connecting ticket for the 2 hour remainder of my journey. Sauntering up to the ticket counter I gave my best travelers smile and asked for a ticket to Krakow. In response to my request I received a cold blank stare. I slowly started to repeat myself but before I could finish the attendant was railing off some Polish, printing a ticket and requesting a sum of money. Of course she wouldn’t be bothered to tell me the train number, time of departure or platform, I was summarily shooed off so she could assist the next person in line. Using the sparse information printed on the ticket (most fields were left blank), I consulted the Arrivals/Departures chart and tried to make sense of the mess. Ultimately I went with my instincts and choose the platform I felt was correct in my gut, I’d been lucky so far. Boarding a much older train than the EuroCity (we’re talking 70s era) and taking an unassigned seat in a musty traditional 4 person train cabin, I settled in for what should be the final 2 hour leg. After about an hour, an attendant came by to punch my stub and the suprise in his face said it all, I had obviously gotten on the wrong train. He didn’t speak English, but his hand gestures indicating I was heading the opposite direction of Krakow told me all I needed to know. I gathered from his broken English that at the next stop I would be switching trains, obviously. What I didn’t realize was how quickly that next train would be departing the station. Slowing down for the next station and before the train had come to a complete stop, I was bring urged out the door by the attendant, frantically pointing and trying to express that I needed to get over to the train 2 platforms away. The quickest suggested method; literally jumping 4 feet down into the greasy train tracks and clambering over metal and concrete with my bag slung over my shoulder… 10 heart-pounding seconds later I made it into the other train just as the car was lurching forward. Relieved to have made it, but frustrated by my mistake, I found a seat and prepared for what would now be a 4 hour trip instead of 2 hours.
6 days later when it came time to leave Krakow, I was headed this time to see a friend in Ostrava, Czech Republic. A shorter journey than before, I approached the ticket counter brimming with confidence, but there it was again, an ominous connection in Katowice. Since there was no direct train with Ostrava, I had to book a ticket to Katowice and hope that I could get my ticket to Ostrava from there. A decent train and a fairly smooth ride to Katowice, so far so good. Once I reached Katowice I again approached the sour old crone in the ticket booth, this time she had pleasure of informing me that the only train departing for Ostrava would be at 11:57pm. At the time it was around 1:00pm. Since I was already there and had no other apparent option (Katowice is apparently technologically isolated as well, so no WiFi) I bought the ticket. Ostrava was literally only 2 hours away, but I wasn’t about to start hitchhiking. So now I had about 12 hours to waste in a small Polish town with no Internet and hardly any English, oh well, Ive had worse layovers in airports. I spent a few hours walking around the area to try a little sightseeing. Once my shoulders were sufficiently aching from the weight of my pack I stopped that nonsense and took a seat on a bench in a quaint little city park.

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There I ended up staying for a good portion of my day, reading and people watching. It’s always interesting to watch people in a foreign country just going about thier business. There were moments I felt as if I was back in the States, but then a passing gypsy or doner kebap vendor would remind me I was still far from home. Needless to say, I got pretty darn bored by the end of that day and as day faded into night I sought refuge in a nearby restaurant. The one positive of the purgatory that was Katowice was that restaurant. I was the only customer and they didn’t serve beer (which at this point I really wanted) but I had the most incredible Polish pancakes stuffed with ham, strong cheese and mushrooms. They looked like burritos but they were far from it.

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Finally, the witching hour had arrived and I boarded my midnight train to Ostrava. It was supposed to be only a 2 hour ride, putting me at my destination around 2am, just enough time to meet my friend Chris for some post-bar late night food. However, Katowice still wasn’t done messing with me. At around 1am I was waging war against the pull of sleep. I couldn’t afford to doze off and miss my stop in Ostrava. I tried music, reading and finally resorted to standing up in the train car. Coming down the home stretch I was starting to lose the battle with the sandman, then we came to an abrupt stop. I looked out the window to confirm that we were not yet in Ostrava and indeed, we were only in a dark train stop somewhere in the outskirts of town. We were stopped 10 minutes, then 20, then 40. When the delay mounted to 2 hours my curious confusion turned to outward rage, but I was too sleepy to do anything about it. Besides, there was literally no one around to ask, or punch. I surmise that this stop was in order to switch tracks and split the train, but an announcement confirming that would have been nice. 4am came around and finally I felt the forward movement of the train. From that moment it was only about 15 minutes to the final stop at Ostrava Hln. I could have walked…oh well, the sun was rising and I hadn’t slept in close to 24 hours. I was simply looking forward to laying down my pack and getting some rest. Hopefully I’ve seen the last of Katowice, but I get the feeling it’s going to be like a bad penny, considering I will be traveling back toward Poland in a few weeks…

Krakow

Whilst thoroughly enjoying myself in Prague, I got an invitation from my buddy Jon to visit him in Krakow, Poland. Jon informed me that he would be heading back to the USA in less than 4 days so since I wasn’t doing anything THAT important, I simply told him to expect me in Krakow that evening. The journey to Krakow started at Praha Hlavni Nadrazi (or just Prague Hln. train station), aboard a sleek EuroCity train. The EuroCity train was in stark contrast to the trains I’ve been riding in Asia. Smooth, fast (200mph) and comfortable, it was certainly the nicest train I’ve ever been on and upped the ante on my concept of public transportation worldwide. All the trains were impeccably clean, on-time and stops were announced clearly in a variety of languages. It was quite the luxurious 6 hour ride, the only hiccup happened when I crossed the border into Poland and stopped in Katowice for a train transfer. Katowice train station ranks very low in my list of transport depots, even compared to third world Asian countries. It’s confusing, dirty and full of unpleasant people. The attendants were rude and uncaring and it was glaringly apparent they hated their jobs more than the guy who cleans the portable toilets. Due to their inability to assist me, I relied on Polish arrival/departure lists (essentially my own intuition) to determine my next train platform. Needless to say, there was some confusion, but I’ll be elaborating on that in my next post.
When I finally arrived in Krakow, it was 2.5 hours later than I had told Jon. Unfortunately I had no way of updating him to my situation, since getting WiFi on the train was not possible. Luckily, the train station, Dworzec Glowny Krakow, empties into the giant Galeria Krakowska shopping mall where there was poor but serviceable WiFi. I messaged Jon and waited outside in the cool (frankly, COLD) night air for his arrival.
Reunited at last and both relived that i had finally made it, Jon and I set out for a celebratory beer and some renowned Polish food. After having my first half liter of Zywiec and exploring some nightlight, it was too late to find a suitable hotel or hostel for me that night, therefore Jon and I decided it would be a good idea for me to sneak into his dorm residence for the evening. This involved scaling a 10 foot stone wall, capped with broken glass to deter would-be intruders like myself, then shimmying 20 yards on top of the wall in order to drop down 2 levels into the courtyard of Jon’s place. All the while dong this in stealth mode to avoid security cameras. Mission-possible. Aside from a scraped palm i made it in no worse for wear and felt like a total badass. It wasn’t until the next morning when I was walking out the front door, that the security guard stopped me and asked for payment for the night that I had just stayed. Busted, epic fail. Luckily it was only 10 zloty for the night, gotta love student dorms. In fact, it inspired me to extend my stay there in lieu of finding another hotel. In my quest to experience as many different living situations during my travels, I certainly got the student experience in Krakow. For a week, my accommodations were the dorms in the middle of the city, just outside of the Old Town Krakow. I was back at UNC, sharing spartan quarters with a roommate and rubbing elbows with other students in the hallway and elevator.
Aside from the cool residence and getting to hang with my good fried Jon once again, there were 2 standout highlights in Krakow: the food and the EuroCup. The food speaks for itself, I believe Pierogies and sausage are world famous, but I sort of stumbled into the Euro Cup situation. Like any good soccer fan, I had been watching the games and following the action of the tournament, since I was in Asia, but chance would have it that I would end up in two of the host cities during the time of the games. Actually going to a game would have been incredible, but tickets were near impossible to come by so I was happy to settle for watching the games with the locals and fans in the authentic atmosphere. On game night, Krakow sported banners and tents galore, so we grabbed a seat on one of the beer hall benches in the main tent for this weeks round of games, most notably, the quarterfinal PK shootout game between Italy and England. There were tons of fans from each team inside the tent and only a spattering of local Poles and neutrals like me. The game was a tense match and despite the free flowing Zywiec, the atmosphere was amicable even in the end. Here is a quick video of Rooney’s PK make, just before the deciding miss by Ashley Young.


As for the food: after the hearty dishes of Prague, I wasn’t sure how much more my stomach could take, that is untill that first steamy plate of Pierogies was set in front of me. Jon had found the perfect spot: simple Pierogies, boiled, not fried, served by the dozen, for less than $5. Any number of delicious fillings were possible, shredded meat, broccoli, cabbage, potato, cheese, fruit or any combination. I enjoyed the traditional “ruskie” style of cabbage, potato and cheese more often than not.

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Polish cusine also relies heavily on soups. Soup is supposed to be eaten with every meal and the Poles traditionally believe that soup is the cure-all for health. Got a cold? There’s a soup for that. Got digestive problems? There’s a soup for that. Got performance issues? There’s probably a soup for that too. I had many differnt soups while visiting, but my favorite was traditional Zurek soup, a sour broth with boiled egg and sausage.

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There was also, beet soup, mushroom soup and their own version of chicken noodle soup. To my excitement and the dismay of my emerging belly, pancakes are also a staple of the Polish diet. Potato pancakes (Palcki) with onion and mushroom gravy as well as thin nalesniki pancakes stuffed with sweet or savory fillings.

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Probably the coup de grace of my culinary adventure in Poland was when Jon took me to a Polish buffet. You simply load your large plate up with all manner of delicious looking cabbage, dumplings, sausages and potatoes and they weigh it at then end. A feast of epic proportions for dirt cheap.

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Of course there were some sights to see around Krakow after my bloated stomach stopped swelling. Jon took me on a thorough tour of the historic Krakow Old Town and the Wawel Castle hill.

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The fortified entrance to the Old Town area. Old Town is surrounded by a large castle wall and encircled by a thin strip of green city park. Once you enter the gates you are confronted by tourists and typical tourist shops, but there are many hidden gems in between the cheap souvenir peddlers.

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St. Mary’s church, a beautiful gothic structure in the middle of the Old Town Market Square.

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Locals playing in the public water fountain in the Market Square on a warm day.

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Walking up the hill to the Wawel Castle, the seat of ancient Polish kings and legend has it, the home to a dragon, slain by mythical King Krak. The Wawel was impressive, hosting a variety of domed churches and the remains of the original structure. Of course, there are numerous statues to honor the JP, the most recent Polish Pope. Poland is staunchly Catholic.

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Krakow at night. The actual market building of the Market Square and a statue commemorating Polish victory outside of the city center.
My final days and nights in Poland were capped off with a rainy day trip to the mountains of Zakopane, a ski destination during the winter months and during the summer it is supposedly a great place for hiking, biking and hangliding. The weather kept us from actually doing any of these great activities, but we still managed to take the funicular up the mountain and the clouds gave way for a few good pictures. In a strange but familiar way, the vibe of Zakopane kind of reminded me of Maggie Valley, NC, or even Gatlinburg, TN. Lost of local hillbilly flair evidenced by the foods and crafts being peddled by locals.

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Lastly there was an interesting night spent in the dorm trying to open a bottle of wine without a corkscrew.

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It can be done people. Jon was relentless in his efforts and aided by YouTube we tried the shoe method as well as the pounding method, but ended up getting the cork out only halfway before deciding that we better not wake up the whole dorm with loud thumping sounds. So we resorted to the, “gouging with knife”, method. Our persistence was rewarded as we filled makeshift wine glasses and toasted to our time in Poland.

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