Warsaw - Like Fitzroy And Bears Of Old....
Trip Start
Mar 03, 2005
1
52
235
Trip End
Ongoing
Warsaw,
Poland
Monday, July 18, 2005
After checking in to the very hip and funky Oki Doki Hostel, I dried off. Of course, the rain then cleared, as obvıously I was inside and thus there was no need for it to rain. The dry condıtıons gave me the opportunity to do some late afternoon exploration of the spread-out city of Warsaw.
In the guidebook there are virtually no building descriptions in Warsaw that don't feature the words, "destroyed in 1944, rebuilt in classical style in....". It must have been an amazing city prior to the Nazi plundering of the 1940's. Most of the important landmark buildings were re-built to as close to original style as possible. It does mean that it "loses" something however.... you look at a grand neo-classical building that was "first constructed in the 14th century, but re-built in 1954 after it was destroyed by the Nazi's in 1944" and you feel like something is missing. It looks like the original, but somehow you know it isn't quite the same.
There is an Old Town and a New Town here. The old town dates to the 10th century. the new town dates from the 14th century. Like all old town squares in Europe, the Old Town Square in Warsaw features a central fountain with statue, covered with obligatory pigeon poop, and surroundıng ıt over-priced cafes complete with massive umbrellas with beer slogans on them. It still makes for a picturesque wander, down the alleys, past the Catholic churches, next to other Catholic churches. The Poles are Catholic happy, and the late Pope John Paul the II (www.lategreatPJPII.com.pl) is treated like a god here. Well almost.... Although originally a Krakovian, PJPII is revered Poland-wide as the greatest Pole ever. There is even a movie out at the moment called "Karol", which is essentially his life story. I was not aware that when PJPII was a kid named Karol, he almost became a professional footballer. But the movie posters all around town show he was a goalkeeper of some standing.
Twilight in a European summer runs for about 4 solid hours. I returned to the hostel and was immediately inspired by another Aussie to cook. There is less motivation to cook when travelling, when you are only cooking for one. But I got off my lazy arse and did it, with a few jealous looks peering over my bowl of steamıng Rigatoni with tomato, pepper and cabanossi, versus there undercooked microwaved two-minute noodles. Pasta is really the only thing you can come up with in hostel kitchens, but it is nice to feel a little bit homely.
After a further wander around for some night photography (something that is completely dweeby, but something I actually enjoy doing and probably haven't done enough of in Europe), including a visit past the Presendential Palace, and its threatening Police with automatic weapons constantly staring you down, I returned to the Oki Doki. Its a great hangout, and comes complete with bar. Like moths to the naked flame, backpackers get sucked ın to the cheap beer and conversation. I can't escape its lure.
There is a poster in the hostel that advertises a walking tour around Warsaw. I thought it worth doing, and headed down to the Royal Castle to join in. By 12.15 I was cursing the whole thing, as no one was there leading a tour, so I created my own solo tour. Through the old town and new town once more, past the monument to the Little Upriser (commemorating the involvement of childen and Scouts in the Warsaw uprising against the Nazis) and through the old Jewish Ghetto to the Pawiak Prison.
The Jewish Holocaust is widely known. Reality was, the was also an enormous Polish genocide, which was not religion based. Hitler hated the Jews, but a close second seemed to be the Poles, as they too were on the agenda for extermination. Around 100,000 Poles of all religions were tourtured and killed solely at the Pawiak Prison during the war. It is a stark place to visit. Not much remains, as like Birkenau, the Nazis attempted to destroy all evidence when leaving.
You go to Auschwitz. You go to Birkenau. You go to Pawiak Prison. You think how terrible the genocide of milions of people was. You think that was 60 years ago, it will never happen again. And then you think a little more and realise that the Bosnian genocide was only 10 years ago. And that genocide in Africa continues today. You would think we would have learned something by now.
The Warsaw Uprising Museum commemorates how regular everyday people, while weak and poorly armed, still managed to fight the Nazis for two months. Although the Russians were just across the Vistula River, and the Allies were storming across Europe, the Varsovians were left to their own devices to survive. The elderly, the ıll, the children, all fought in an uprising against the Nazis just four months prior to the Russians drivıng out the Nazis from Warsaw. Unfortunately the locals could only hold out for two months before being defeated, and many were subsequently killed, and the city all but destroyed. It is an extensive museum, with horrendous yet real photos of hell.
Oh god this is all a little serious. Its not all past doom and gloom here in Warsaw. I headed back to the hostel and straight to the bar. The moth returns to the flame. Tonight it is full. Its a little bar so that means around 20 people. Brisbanites, Sydneysiders, Poms, Danes, Dutch, Americans. At one stage I am so inspired by my previous nights cooking that I claim that I will cook for them all tomorrow night. In perfect harmony, most look around to me and say "OK".
Oh dear god, what have I done.
Upon re-inspecting the walking tour poster back at the hostel, I read the large print this time that stated "tours everyday except Wednesday and Sunday". Given yesterday was Wednesday, and thus I felt like a complete dill for going to find a tour that wasn't actually on, I returned to the Royal Castle to join the tour to see those sights that I was yet to see.
It was a relatively informative tour, which convinced me that my knowledge of European history and Politics actually sucks. We wandered past further war memorials that I was yet to see, and past old Communist institutions. It is difficult to believe that merely 16 years ago, the Soviets were still in charge here in Poland. As testament to the Poles love for all things PJPII, one major thoroughfare here is "Jana Pawla II" street. While wandering down it with the tour group, I thought it ironic that this particular street is filled with Sex Shops, including one with its shop-front poster being of Kylie Minogue in lingerie. I doubt whether Karol would have approved of 'Peep Shows'.
The Poles are also brochure happy. If you collected a pıece of paper from everyone who handed you one each day, a tree would dıe. They are mad for the 'brochure on parked car wındscreen thıng' as well - most of whıch are advertısıng brothels.
Recalling that I had said the words "I'll cook for you all" the night before, and that a large proportion wanted in on the deal, a group of us headed to the supermarket to stock up. It was at that moment when I discovered that one of young Englishmen, was actually formerly a professional chef. I could have taken that two ways - horribly intimidating, or an opportunity to watch, learn, and take all the credit. I chose the latter.
Cooking Penne (I know, I know) for twelve hungry folks, using the limited facilities on offer in a hostel, is no easy task. For instance - no chopping board, one decent knife and a blunt swiss-army knife, no plates, no oven, no room. But Gavin and I took to it like professional chefs. Probably because one of us was a professional chef, and the other one of us was highly skilled at copying. I learned some handy hints along the way. I made him cut the onions. The pasta was al-dente. The sauce was a mixture of Napoli and delicious vegetables. The red wine was Bulgarian and horribly sweet. It was grand. Or as one of the Aussies clamied, "soooooooo nice", taking the piss out of herself at the same time. It is "sooooo nice" to Australianisms every once in a while.
Afterwards a bulging group of us retired to the bar before heading to a Pub Crawl, run by the same guy who lead the tour I had done earlier in the day. I had images of Gavin and my prior hard slaving over the hotplates, being washed down the gutters of Warsaw in a mix of beer, Bison vodka, napoli sauce and vomit. I hoped no one over-indulges.
Now if I went into great description about every drinking experience I have had in Europe, you would quickly be bored, and I would quickly be accused of alcoholism.
But this night was exceptionally fun, mostly because of the people involved. Was it Carla, the Spanish girl from Sydney who lead the local Polish boys a drooling merry dance? Was it the drinking game called "Fuck Me"? Was it Nathan the tour leader with the Hawaiian shirt who had more gay mannerisms than Liberace but claimed to be straight? Was it Kathy the Canadian school teacher with "Roots Canada" on her backpack? (apparently its a brand of outdoor equipment, not a way of life...) Was it Harry the Chinese Englishman of Sumo looks, who became known as "Fat Fuck" from the afore-mentioned drinking game? Was it the last club on the agenda, 'The Underground', and their penchant for playing the Spice Girls, MC Hammer and Hot Chocolate, and thus taken itself to a level of dagginess so low that in fact it became cool?
It was a combination of them all. But no doubt the major factor was Michel, Shane, Claire, and Sally. Four Australians, from Brisbane or nearby. All were Brisbane Lions fans. Claire mentioned that she was an old Roygirl - her father having played for the Fitzroy Juniors. Her famıly had moved up north and were Lıons fans.
It is a good thing we weren't in Las Vegas, or I may well have married her on the spot.
There was a solid half hour of debate between myself, Claire and Sally as to if Jonathan Brown will be the next Lions captain after Vossy (there is a 20 Zloty note riding on JB taking over for 2007). There was also a solid half hour on the merits of Alastair Lynch's top notch legs and that the Gabba was now a poorer viewing zone since his retirement. (I wasn't involved in that debate).
But the clincher was walking down Marszalkowska Street singing the Lions theme song. "We will always fight for victory, like Fitzroy and Bears of old.....", at the top of our lungs, in the drizzling rain on a bitterly cold Warsaw summer's night. It took the evening to a higher plain.
Sometimes you can be closer to home than you think you are.
(subnote - for the international readers out there, and I know there are a few, one day I will sit down with you and explain the merits of the long bomb to tall marking forwards, the rocket handball, the stories of Bernie "Superboot" Quinlan and the Junction Oval, that it is a tough game but not a brutal game, that cold pies and warm beer is actually not so bad, why even though you have never heard of Collingwood you should still hate them, and that indeed Jonathan Brown will be the next Brisbane Lions captain after Vossy hands over the reigns in 2007, you mark my words. The above is in reference to Australian Rules Football)
My final full day in Warsaw is almost a spare day. It is hard to keep up a travel pace for months on end, so I decided to take it a little easier.
'Can you point out Stalin's Penis to me?'
I am not sure if it is an official title, but the large Soviet monolith skyscraper in the middle of Warsaw appears to be known by the title of 'Stalin's Penis'. When the Soviet's took over Poland after the war, Stalin was looking to make a grand statement to show that Warsaw was rebuilding and that communism was leading the Polish people out of their misery. Thus in 1954 the Soviets 'gifted' to Poland (out of the Poles own money) a large skyscraper that would look at home in Red Square in Moscow. It is the Palace of Culture and Science. It is as Soviet on the inside as ıt ıs on the outsıde. The grand Penis didn't sway the Poles for one moment. The appear to hate ıt even today.
The remainder of the day was spent ambling the drizzly streets of this town. As most of last night's troops have moved on today, a smaller group of us made our way down to the Old Town for a traditional Polish meal. The Poles never eat 'light and easy' - Potato Pancake, stuffed węth Beef Medallions and Mushroom Sauce, with cabbage and dumplings can hardly be described as weight-watching. I guess a few extra kilos of heavy Polish cooking isn't going to do me any harm.
PS - Lions by 13 over Essendon. Can I sing the song now?
