Poland

My Call to Poland

Sukiennice, the impressive Medieval Cloth Hall, in Kraków’s Rynek Glowny

You might call me unimaginative, but I’d never thought a great deal about Poland until that strange evening, 12 years ago, when Dad got a phone call from ‘home’. For 64 years he’d had no contact with his Polish family, leaving the farm aged just 15, and in German custody. That phone call turned our lives upside down. Until then Dad had been my only Polish relative. Imagine, overnight, you belong in an enormous family, who don’t even speak the same language as you. But who welcome you with open arms.

That’s just how it was, and when Cathy asks ‘what is it that draws you to a place?’ then the lure of family surely has a part to play. Over at Wanderessence she’s been exploring the reasons why we travel, and so much more. I’ve always had that restless urge, but my first visit to Poland was a revelation. I’ve never been hugged and kissed so much in my life. Now, don’t get me wrong. Outside of family and friends, Polish people are not normally smiling nor especially welcoming. Given their history, they have good cause to hold a little in reserve. But Dad was the long lost brother, and was treated like Polish royalty, while I followed along in his wake, smiling fondly but often with little real idea of what was going on. The language barrier, you see.

Coach and horses have right of way in Rynek Glowny

The country looked so very different to the one I was used to calling home. The chalet style houses looked different, out in the countryside. One of the things I found really strange was that pipes often ran overhead alongside the country roads, rather than underground, as I was used. But in the historic centres of the cities, the intricately painted and decorated facades had me stand and gaze in awe. Kraków and Wrocław- I’ve been privileged to know both of these beautiful cities, because of my family.

Ratusz, the Town Hall, in Wroclaw

Fountains in Wroclaw’s main square

Polish eating habits are different too. Second breakfast, lunch at 3 in the afternoon, and cake before and after almost everything! (that must be where I get it from 🙂 ) In the previous year, I and my husband had acquired a holiday home in Portugal. Totally different culturally and in climate too, yet I found myself wondering, if we had known of the existence of the Polish family sooner, would I have been looking for a house in Poland? I suspect I might. I’ve always had the sea on my doorstep, and Poland is landlocked on 3 sides. The Baltic coast is too far from family, but I’ve always been drawn to lakes and mountains too. A visit to the Pieniny Mountain range, and the spa resort Szczawnica, linger in my memory. Rafting through the Dunajec Gorge was a totally unforgettable experience.

Dunajec Gorge

Boatman in traditional costume

Heading downstream

I have shared some wonderful times with my Polish family, and written about them extensively, while trying not to give embarrassment. The series My Personal A-Z of Poland has many tales to tell. Dad died in October 2016 and I haven’t been back to Poland since. But I can still feel the call. Writing Easter cards took me back into each of their homes. New youngsters have been born since my last visit, but my elders are growing older and, in some cases, frail. I’m feeling the need to return, just once more, before starting my new life in the Algarve.

Dad with Uncle Wlodek, at home in Zgorzelec

I’m linking this to Cathy, on her series A Call to Place. The lady is a human dynamo, seeking to improve her travel writing and to entertain us along the way. Pay her a call. She’ll be so glad to see you.

A walking retrospective

You probably think you’re seeing double! This is the opening photo for my most recent walk, Boxing Day Blues. It’s hard to select favourites but my criteria is often that a photo takes you back to a moment in time. For me this was a clear, bright, quite unparalleled December day.

Would you believe that this one was taken in August, but how could I leave out such a winning smile? Gargrave in the rain was one of the most joyful moments of my past year. A wedding anniversary weekend!

By contrast, Autumn this year was a riot of colour, and I can still feel that warm November sun on my back as I stood in the churchyard, surveying the magnificent ruins of Flamboyant Autumn at Easby Abbey.

October was a time of great sadness for me. I never could have guessed that, as I looked up at this church in Alternative Ayamonte, my Dad had only hours to live. I was abroad in my beautiful Algarve, but my heart really wasn’t in it.

How could it only have been a couple of weeks before that I was so joyfully walking the Water of Leith, excited to meet for the first time with my lovely friend Jude? A landmark event!

Can’t help but share a moment of north eastern pride with the celebrated Tall Ships Regatta at Blyth in August. How proud Dad would have been of the Polish ships taking part. He was always a patriot.

Which transports me back to July, when I met a lady with a fabulous smile in the City of Birmingham. It was my first time in the city and I loved it. Thanks, Gilly! I know I made a friend for life.

It was a water lily Summer. They were everywhere! I visited many beautiful gardens, such as Newby Hall, in June. Funny how so many of you were more interested in the cake than the flowers!

I spent two wonderful weeks in Poland to coincide with the May Bank Holiday. My cousin Adam is a baker but always manages a few days off that weekend for his birthday. It was Dad’s favourite time to go, and I was so happy that I got to spend this precious time with him. Naughtily though, I did manage to escape, into the arms of another friend for life- Meeting Meg!

In that early part of the year I was leading a charmed life. My visit to Poland was sandwiched with trips to the Algarve and many walking excursions. A day at Mertola in the Alentejo was particularly memorable.

April, always the time for lambs, I threw one little chap into total panic as I held a gate open for him. Lambkins and Bikes– a winning combination?

I was delighted to have my lovely daughter home for Easter, in March. The highlight of that weekend was the Butterfly Trail in nearby Preston Park. They are incredible creatures, and almost as exotic as my daughter.

February in the Algarve is synonymous with Amendoeira– Almond Blossom. And, of course, Carnival, but that’s an entirely different story.

And so we find ourselves in January, and Saltburn in Winter. It’s a lovely seaside town on the North Yorkshire coast, a place I like to stroll at any time of year.

What a year of highs and lows it’s been. I have Paula to thank for leading me back through the months. Thursday’s Special this week is Retrospective. Don’t miss it!

Jo’s Monday walk : Saying goodbye

Aleksander Boleslaw Szustakiewicz

26.2.1928 – 2.10.2016

My heart is too heavy to walk with you today. Some of you will know that Dad died whilst I was in the Algarve. He had a long, and often-times happy life, and made many friends along the way. He was never happier than when surrounded by family, and it brought real joy to his life when he was reunited with those in his native Poland, after an absence of 64 years.

Tomorrow he will be surrounded by love as we say our goodbyes, remember and celebrate his life. He was a wonderful Dad, and was ever present in my life. The loss will be huge, but the connection to Poland will endure, as he would have wanted.

I know you will excuse me from commenting this week, but whilst I was away the walks continued to roll in. I would like you to share them in my absence. Many thanks in anticipation of your tolerance and kind thoughts. I will be back walking with you next week.

………………………………………………………………………………….

Cathy’s been romping all over Iceland! This is just one of many. Enjoy!

North Iceland : The Black Lava Field & Solfataras of Leirhnjukur at Krafla

Meantime, Becky is edging eastwards with a whole lot of history :

Going east on the Thames Path

Not just the home of golf! Ask Elaine!

St. Andrews

Autumn as you don’t very often see it. Through Cardinal’s eyes :

Autumn Streets

Some day I must make it to Sicily. Pretty please! Lady Lee loves it :

Ancient theatre of Taormina

When Sue waxes lyrical you just have to sit up and pay attention!

Larch Trees in Canada- The Beauty Queens

Serious Sue (I’m differentiating 🙂 ) kindly lets me ride her mobility scooter at Wisley :

Signs of Autumn and a Sculpture Trail

Drake has found himself a jewel of a home in Alsace :

High five surroundings

And Biti, the most beautiful ‘shell’ house you’ll ever see :

Ballymaloe Cooking School- The Shell House

Debbie tells the story of Wojtek, the bear who went to war. If you were curious about him after my last post, here it is!

Soldier Bear

Geoff goes strutting his stuff around London :

Crystal Palace to Grove Park

Let Jaspa take you to another fabulous UNESCO World Heritage Site :

The Forts and Tunnels of Old San Juan, Puerto Rico

I knew very little about Milwaukee till I read Jackie’s post :

Day 3- Milwaukee

Spicy chilli hot chocolate? Have some with Violet Sky :

St. Boniface and Gabrielle Roy

Navarra has such a nice sound to it. Leya would love to show you around :

Ziga, Baztan- Natural, Yet Sophisticated

Take care of each other.

Jo’s Monday walk : a Tale of 3 Churches

For my Polish family, religion is a part of everyday life. The routine of going to church begins in the cradle, and in adult life is fitted in between shift patterns and housework. For myself, faith has never been a given, but I am awed by the beauty, created by man in celebration of his God.

My last day in Krakow dawned bright and beautiful, and I knew that I would spend it outdoors. When I outlined my planned walk to my cousin Marta, it was greeted with her usual enthusiasm. In no time at all I found myself deposited in a car park, facing a church, and surrounded by greenery. I wasn’t sure exactly where I was, so I was relieved to see, in the far distance, the surreal outline of the Sanktuarium Bożego Miłosierdzia. It was my eventual target, but first I would look inside this church.

From the exterior, Sanktuarium Świętego Jana Pawła II, looks rather severe and forbidding, but that impression is quite false. The finely sculpted cast bronze doors testify to somewhere very special. Then, across an enormous font, you catch a glimpse of the altar.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

The octagonally shaped church is dedicated to Pope John Paul II, one of Poland’s most famous and best-loved sons. He was a very human pope, and a man who filled me with deep respect. All of Poland mourned his passing, and tributes are to be found to him everywhere. I was unprepared for the scale and the sensory indulgence of what lay inside.

I drew closer and closer, affected by the emotions and the glowing colours. A disturbed Peter and the eloquence of Mary’s love. The compassion in the touch of a hand. I have never seen mosaics used to greater effect.

Observing a stern and sorrowful angel Gabriel, I turned to walk away. The church was almost deserted at this early hour. Footsteps echoed in the empty space and a priest came through a doorway and crossed my path. I did not know the correct form of address. Father, ‘Tata’ in Polish, seemed too familiar, and before I could think he was gone. ‘Ojciec’, I should have said.

Out again, in the still and sunny morning, I began my walk. A path was newly laid and there were signs of ongoing construction, but I had the place almost to myself. A gentleman sat on a bench, his dog at his heels, and we exchanged greetings and a smile at the balmy morning. A lady strolled with pushchair. And I drew nearer to Sanktuarium Bożego Miłosierdzia.

An extravagance of yellow curly-wurlyness caught my eye, and then I stopped, unsure of the way ahead. Steps led down to what appeared to be a construction site and I wasn’t sure if it was accessible to the public. What to do, but carry on? I had no idea how else I could approach the church. I had been there once before, years ago with my niece Weronika, but we had arrived by car.

Down the steps and over a narrow bridge, the workers looked up from their tea break but made no comment. A digger or two puttered about, and I’m sure that in the near future there will be a formal path. Relieved, I followed a gravel path past the stations of the cross.

Sanktuarium Bożego Miłosierdzia, Church of the Divine Mercy, is an extraordinary building. I walked around it, looking up at the 77 metre high tower, completed in 2002. I knew that it was possible to ascend, and that the day was perfect to do just that.

On the grass in front of the tower, a party of school children frolicked and ate packed lunches. Steps led to the main body of the church, where a service appeared to be taking place. Clad all in white, the youngsters looked angelic. I permitted myself a discreet shot, then headed for the lift.

Leaving the lift, there were two further flights of concrete steps to take you to the top. The views encompassed Nowa Huta, the former industrial district, and all of Krakow’s suburbs. My third church, dedicated to Sister Faustina, was visible just below. I headed back down the stairwell.

Back down to earth. I was reluctant to leave. The atmosphere was so calming. So peaceful. In wandering, I discovered John Paul II’s tiny chapel.

The wall celebrating the sponsors of the church complex led easily into the courtyard of Saint Faustina’s. Born Helena Kowalska in 1905, Sister Maria Faustina Kowalska was a visionary. Her death from TB in 1938 followed numerous mystical experiences.

The monastery of the Sisters of Our Lady of Mercy dates back to 1889. It contains a very special painting of Jesus, as seen in a vision by Sister Faustina. A place of international pilgrimage, it has close links with Pope John Paul II. The nun was beatified in 1993. As I approached the church a group of excited youngsters, all in white, spilled down the steps, chattering and smiling. Proud parents took photos. Marta later explained to me that the ‘mini pilgrimage’ is a regular feature of the church.

The joy shone out of the young faces and I longed to take a photo as they milled about. I watched for a while and then turned to go. I strolled back through the beautiful grounds and was just in time for one last treat. On the auditorium steps a group of children were having photos taken with the priest. I just about caught them before they dashed off.

My walk home was long, but maybe that’s a story for another day. This concludes my series of posts about my visit to Poland. I’ve touched on many aspects of Polish life and hopefully shared my joy. And now, we really have earned that cuppa, haven’t we?

As always I must say thank you to my many contributors and supporters who make this weekly post such a pleasure for me. I hope you can find time to read them, and maybe you’d like to join me in a future Jo’s Monday walk. Details of how to join in can be found by clicking on the logo. Here we go!

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Budapest never looked more lovely than through Debbie’s eyes :

Walking the Danube

Spectacular alpine scenery from our intrepid Elaine this week :

An excellent view of the Glacier des Bossons

‘Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee’- immortal words shared by Drake :

Fly on the wings of love

Jackie posted a reminder of Gay Pride in Toronto :

Toronto Pride Murals

England has some beautiful homes and gardens, doesn’t it? A lovely share from Lady Lee Manila :

Charlecote Park

Explore her latest home from home, with Liesbet :

Visit to Northampton, MA

A rousing cheer for Mlissabeth, who joins us this week! The family came too :

Our Walk through the Gardens

Miriam managed an overnight escape from her family, and that can also be blissful :

Twenty four hours in Marysville

And then a little magic, up in the clouds :

Marysville Magic

While Biti continued her ramble along the Blue Coast :

Cote Bleue – Calanques Part II

You know I said last week how much I loved the Italian Lakes? Check this out! Thanks, Rosemay- it’s beautiful :

Exploring Lenno

And Susan continues her fascinating look at Eastern Europe. There’s a book too! More about that later :

Walking Moldova

Becky turns conformist this week, but only for a little while :

Hiking the Ladeiras do Pontal trail

And in case you didn’t know it, Becky has a second blog, featuring her English life :

Fingringhoe Wick

A charming Irish walk next, from Inese, with a little bit of drama :

Anne Valley- Walk through the Fairy Door

Next I have a jaw-dropper from Meg! Go and see just why I wanted to visit Gdansk :

A ramble round Gdansk main town

Gilly has her very own city wall, and lovely gardens too, in beautiful Devonshire :

Beside the City Wall

Exhausting isn’t it, all this walking? But I’m so glad you could come along. Next week I have a totally English walk for you. See you then!

And if you have any spare time, give a shout to the busy folks at Monday Escapes.

Oskar Schindler’s Enamel Factory

What do you do when an occupying force moves into your beautiful city? You resist, of course. Just how mightily the Poles resisted Nazi occupation was made abundantly clear to me at Oskar Schindler’s Enamel Factory.

It was a damp morning in Kraków, but I didn’t want to waste one of my few remaining days in the city. I had an imperfect understanding of the location of Schindler’s Factory, but I alighted from the tram, south of the river, and began my search. I knew that I was in the right vicinity when I entered a huge square, full of sculpted seats and a sad photographic display in black and white. Plac Bohaterów Getta (Ghetto Heroes Square) commemorates the Polish Jews who were imprisoned and died in the Kraków Ghetto between 1941 and 1943.

Oskar Schindler was a Nazi party member and a war profiteer, who earned the gratitude of 1100 Jews by giving them a second chance at life. It is a remarkable story and one that touches me deeply.

The museum is a little off the beaten track, and my map reading skills sadly lacking, so I went inside the tiny art gallery on the square. The proprietor kindly gave me precise instructions (in English!) and I found my way around the excavations and building work to Ul. Lipowa. It was raining steadily and I fell into step with a young Polish couple with an umbrella, who were also going to the museum. It being Monday, admission was free from 10-2.00pm, and understandably the museum was busy. Initially I was a little confused by the layout, and the number of students clustered around, but once I found the correct door I was hooked.

Just a handful of the former workers saved by Oskar Schindler’s intervention. The museum takes you through the years 1939-45, starting with life before the war. Then comes German occupation, with its restrictions and consequences. People are evicted from their homes with nothing but a few personal possessions. A curfew is imposed and it becomes necessary to queue for hours to obtain the most basic food. Polish secondary schools and universities are closed. The Polish press is liquidated. Any figure of influence or authority is regarded as a threat and dealt with accordingly. The use of home radio sets is forbidden. Loud hailers broadcast propaganda twice daily, and eventually the names of those sentenced to death. Inexorably the rounding up of the Jews into the ghetto begins.

And the Polish response to this? ‘Secret’ schools conducted in defiance, though involvement was punishable by death or consignment to a concentration camp. An underground press and formation of a resistance movement to sabotage German efforts wherever possible. The gallery below features a ‘secret’ teacher and messages from pupils. The first face reminds me so much of photographs I have seen, from that era, of a deceased family member. Many stories, both of pathos and of heroism, are featured throughout the museum.

Up concrete stairs to the first floor, the museum really comes to life, introducing a pre-war Kraków photographic studio and a cast of characters. Before the war Jews accounted for over 25% of the community, and both Christians and Jews sat together on the City Council.

A narrow corridor leads to the Stereoscope- a device used for looking at individual stereoscopic photos. They rotate inside a drum, giving the illusion of three-dimensionality. This one dates back to the late 19th century. It was a revelation.

On 1st September, 1939 war broke out, and on 6th September the Nazis entered Kraków. The Wehrmacht flag flew over the sacred site of Wawel, and from the outset the prohibitions and orders began. Jewish shops had to be marked, and were plundered by the Germans, and all Jews over the age of 12 had to wear armbands with the Star of David on the right arm. Racial segregation had begun.

And then the nightmare of the Ghetto. Intimidation, round-ups in the streets, imprisonment and interrogation in the Gestapo HQ on Ul. Pomorska and the prison at 7 Ul. Montelupich. I read a few of the accounts of life in the ghetto, and the tram that ran through but didn’t stop. There were sympathisers, of course, like Tadeusz Pankiewicz and his staff at the Eagle Pharmacy, who smuggled letters and messages to and from the ghetto.

17,000 people were contained within the ghetto walls, where 250-300 calories was the daily allowance for a Jew. Details of the resettlement can be found here. I had not realised that the arched shapes of the ghetto walls were intentionally designed to resemble Jewish tombstones. How sick!

Residents worked both within and outside of the ghetto, the luckier ones at Oskar Schindler’s Deutsche Emailwarenfabrik- DEF. These were taken to and from work under armed escort. If you were not fit to work you would eventually be deported to an annihilation camp.

Zabłocie was an industrial area, with successful factories dealing in wire, mesh and iron products, soap, and enamelware and metal products. During the war a production plant for aeroplane parts and radiators, a crate factory and a barrack builders were added. Schindler took over receivership of the enamelware company, which was in financial straits, and with the aid of Jewish capital set about expansion. A munitions section was added, to make mess tins for the Wehrmacht, and shells and fuses for artillery and air missiles, to assist in the war effort. Working conditions were hard, but by steadily increasing his Jewish labour force from the ghetto, Schindler saved around 1100 grateful souls.

In Schindler’s office a glass cube designed by Michal Urban is the centrepiece. It contains metal cylinders, inscribed with the names of the 1100.

He was no saint, Schindler. Perhaps that makes his story all the more remarkable. I have included links that will enlarge on the story if you are interested. The museum is over 3 floors, in the original factory building. I found it to be charged with atmosphere.

The Historical Museum website brings together information on all of the Kraków museums.

Jo’s Monday walk : Strolling in Kraków

I don’t know of a more beautiful city than Kraków for strolling in the sunshine. The last time I brought you here it was cool and drizzly, and I took refuge in the city walls. No such concern today. I hop off the tram on Św. Gertrudy, a nice central location, and let my fancy take control.

Crossing the Planty into Dominikanska, it’s almost automatic to gravitate towards the Rynek. The ethereal turrets of the Sukiennice, and the glittering jewels within, exert a mighty pull. But I spy a tiny Poczta- the very thing I’m needing to send my postcard winging its way to Viveka in Sweden. I have a wonderful collection growing as a result of that lovely lady’s travels.

Grodska is often thronged with tourists, but I saunter along this peaceful morning, without needing to sidestep into the road. No horse and carriages huffing and snorting down my neck. They are queued, waiting sedately in the square.

Rynek Główny is beautiful. At any hour of the day, coffee can be indulged at your restaurant of choice . Some customers gaze raptly out at the Ratusz. Others, more blase, focus on stirring in their grains of sugar. I’ve wandered here many times, but still make fresh discoveries.

I do have a tendency to poke my nose in where it shouldn’t be, often in all innocence. When I come upon the entrance to the Krzysztofory Museum, on the Rynek, I am delighted to observe that it is free to visitors on Tuesdays. I gently push on the glass door and step into the museum shop. Through an archway a receptionist sits, busy behind her desk. Uttering a polite ‘Dzień dobry’, I walk past, and am presented with a mighty flight of red-carpeted steps. Up I go, of course.

On the landing, I am confronted by knights in armour with a huge display of weaponry. Not much to my taste, but as I step through the doorway I find something that truly is. Aren’t these ceilings exquisite?

I am in a huge room, with chairs set out at one end, as if expecting a meeting. As I gaze at my surroundings, a voice says ‘Prosze, Pani?’ A lady is regarding me with some misgivings. I struggle to find an appropriate response in Polish. Sweeping briskly into the room, she states that the museum is ‘otwarty’- closed! Nothing to do but mumble an apology, and retreat.

Back in the sunshine, I continue my quest, delighting in the architecture. A bearded elderly gentleman, with twinkly eyes, offers to take a photo of me in his beautiful city. I decline in my faltering Polish, but with a smile on my face.

With museums still in mind, I continue along Św. Jana, hoping to find that the restoration of the Czartoryskich is complete, but my luck has run out. Instead I gaze at the paintings, suspended on the old city walls, along Pijarska. I’m charmed by one of them but, at 1200 zl, decide to leave it where it is. I take an inviting seat beneath the walls, outside Stare Mury, for coffee with a view.

The menu is full of temptation, but this is just a pause to enjoy the sunshine. I smile as a crocodile of ‘malutki’, small children, are shepherded by, in the diligent care of elderly nuns. Soon I am off again, heading down Szpitalna, past the highly ornate Słowackiego theatre. This brings me to Mały Rynek and Plac Mariacki, in the shadow of the magnificent church. I am just in time to catch the end of a folk performance.

Are you still with me? It’s such a glorious day that I have it in mind to head for the river, and maybe a glass of wine. Crossing the Rynek, I head south on Wiślna till I rejoin the leafy green Planty, which surrounds the oldest part of the city. An exhibition dedicated to Kraków Stolicą Bożego Miłosierdzia- the capital of Divine Mercy- accompanies my progress. The Pope is revered in this city.

I hadn’t intended to walk through the Castle grounds, but Wawel on a day like this is well nigh irresistible. I head down to the river, far below.

I think we’ll sit awhile. Don’t you? Afterwards I saunter homewards, luxuriating in a vanilla and chocolate icecream cone. I hope I haven’t worn you out too much? You can take your time and sit as long as you like. It’s a beautiful place.

Thanks everybody, for your continued support and company. I hope you enjoy my walks as much as I enjoy sharing them with you. If you’d like to join in at any time, details are on my Jo’s Monday walk page. Just click on the logo above. And now, let’s put the kettle on and get reading.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Up in those Welsh Mountains to start us off, with Lady Lee Manila :

Snowdon

Where’s Jackie this week? Surrounded by art and design :

Monday Walk

Susan shows us more of the fascinating Ukraine :

Walking Kherson

Smidge is bagging Munros with some beautiful views :

Ben Lomond & the Ptarmigan Ridge

Laia’s been having fun with a brand new website. Go and take a look!

La Boca : exploring the hidden world beyond Caminito

Is Liesbet trying to confuse me? It doesn’t take much!

Walk through Luik/Liege/Luttich in Belgium

Or explore some beautiful coves, just along the coast from Marseilles :

Cote Bleue (Blue Coast)- Calanques Part 1

Anabel’s close to home again, on the lovely Northumberland coast :

Bamburgh Castle

You can never tire of seeing THAT Bay swaddled in clouds :

4 Hours in San Francisco

Have you got your mantilla and castanets ready? Debbie’s taking us on a whirlwind Spanish tour :

Alphabetical Tour of Spain

Some people can’t help being contrary, can they? Mick says I should know, Becky!

Our advice is to walk it the other way round

Rosemay reminds us just why I used to love the Italian Lakes. I still do!

A Walk to Villa del Balbianello

And finally, Susan finds some wonderful, and quirky, green space in the city :

The High Line : NYC’s Elevated Park

Wonderful, aren’t they? That’s it for another week. I have one more Polish walk to share, of a slightly different nature. Come along if you can. Meantime, have a great week and take good care of yourselves.

The Palace full of Beauty

How could you possibly ignore such a claim? I ventured into several museums on my recent visit to Kraków, but none more beautiful. Pałac Pełen Piękna makes no false claim. More properly known as the Bishop Erazm Ciołek Palace, it was built originally between 1501-1503, for the Bishop of Płock. Erazm Ciołek, secretary to King Alexander Jagellion, was a diplomat, humanist and a patron of the arts.

The architecture of the building features traditional Gothic elements and influences from the Italian Renaissance. It was added to down the centuries, including the frescoes which took my breath away. Austrian occupation turned it rather incongruously into a police station and prison in 1805. Rescue was forthcoming and in 1996 it became the property of the National Museum of Kraków, and was restored to its former glory. Today it houses art of Old Poland, 12th-18th Centuries- medieval, Renaissance and Baroque.

It was the beautiful frescoes and the incredible painted wooden ceilings that captured my imagination, as much, if not more than, the collected art works. I gazed upwards in awe. I apologise for the poor quality of my photographs, but I mean only to give you a sense of what I felt.

The building is as beautiful as its contents in my eyes. I’m no appreciator of medieval art. I’m just thankful that it has been preserved so that I can share with you a tiny fraction of its splendours. The museum is to be found at Ul. Kanonicza 17.

Paula is featuring Traces of the Past again in this week’s Thursday’s Special. Don’t miss it!

Piotrków Trybunalski

I’d like to spend just a little more time with my Zawady family, before returning you to the big city sights of Kraków.

We sat out, on my last night, under the stars and beside a roaring bonfire. Myself and Jadzia, with husband Andrzej and sister, Ewa. I was quiet, letting the conversation flow around me, while Jadzia and Andrzej took turns to stoke the fire, the kiełbasa bursting and sizzling on the grill. My head was still full of the day’s excitement, with Meg in Łódź.

Broad smiles and hugs had greeted me when I pronounced the day ‘fantastyczny’ on my return. Ewa was quick to produce a bottle of something soothing to rub on my black eye, which was rapidly developing after the previous night’s misadventure. How is it possible to walk into a lighted porch lamp? I’ve no idea, but I knew that an early start was intended next day.

If you look closely you’ll see Andrzej, sitting on the hammock. For the past 50 years he has wanted a motor bike. Finally, as he approaches retirement, Jadzia is considering letting him buy one. And so we went to the Saturday morning market at Piotrków Trybunalski. The last place it would have occurred to me to go looking for a bike, but sure enough, bikes there were. And just about every other conceivable thing too. We stowed our purchases (but not a bike- they were all too old!) in the car, and drove into the town centre.

Seldom have I seen a sleepier Saturday morning than at Piotrków Trybunalski, yet the grandeur of the main square hints at its illustrious past. Medieval Piotrków was an important trading centre, and much later became the seat of the Sejm, the Polish Parliament. In between times it was home to the Polish prince’s tribunals or law courts, including the Royal Tribunal, the highest court in Poland. I knew little of this, as I strolled through the peaceful square.

Under Austrian occupation in World War 1, Piotrków became a centre for Polish patriotic activity and a headquarters of the voluntary troops, the Polish Legions. The town had a large Jewish population, and in October 1939 became the site of the first Jewish Ghetto of World War 11. Fierce fighting took place but the town was subsequently occupied by the Germans for 6 years. The Great Synagogue, listed as one of Poland’s most notable architectural buildings, was destroyed by the Nazis, but renovated after the war.

As we wandered, Jadzia pointed out the school she used to go to, catching the early bus from Zawady each morning. She was proud of the connection with Copernicus, and I was happy to be there with her.

It was time to return to Zawady, but first a very swish motor bike shop, and a stop to collect cake. Just one last coffee before we set off to meet Dad, for the journey south. And then the hugs, goodbye.

Paula has a new approach to Thursday’s Special this week. I think I might just squeeze this under the heading of Transience, don’t you? Family meetings and former glory.

Jo’s Monday walk : Bełchatów

I may have misled some of you, but I’m staying in Central Poland for this week’s walk. I expanded on a little of the family saga last week in Zawady, the village where Dad was born. Today we’re taking a stroll around Bełchatów, the county town, some 7kms and a bus ride away.

B is for Bełchatów covers much of the town’s history, so we can simply concentrate on how the place looks today. (Bew-ha-toof is very roughly how it’s pronounced) The Tourist Information office is small but friendly, and perfectly placed for our start, on Ul. T. Kościuszki. Ignoring the map in my hand, I’m drawn to a passage beside the TI, with a glimpse of green space beyond. I follow it and find myself in rather a nice park.

I cross the bridge over the lake and notice a canal leading off through the park. The imposing building in my opening shot proves to be Muzeum Regionalne, a late Baroque listed manor. I wonder about its contents, but my curiosity about the water is greater. I follow it, out beyond the park. On the map it’s shown as Rakówka, and Olszewski Park.

I wander a little way to see where it leads but, when it seems I’m getting too far from the centre, I double back through the houses. A street corner church thankfully looks familiar, and I’m back at the junction of 9 Maja and Kościuszki.

I look at the signs on shops for clues as to what I might buy there, hoping to purchase a few small gifts for the family. My niece Ania and husband Hubert are shopping at the new shopping gallery and Tesco’s, but this has little appeal for me. I prefer the more traditional shops, but they can be a little mystifying. I’ve come full circle now and am back at the museum.

Opposite the TI stands Kościół Narodzenia, the church where Ania and Hubert were married. I remember it as being very beautiful inside.

Beside the church, a new addition, Park Narutowicza, provides entertainment with it’s ever changing fountains. And a little street art, too.

From being a beautiful balmy day, the sky has begun to darken, exactly as the forecast had indicated. I look for shelter, just in case, and am drawn to a sign, ‘Giganty Mocy’. Not at all sure what I’ll find, in I go. The gallery space is a revelation.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

The rain is spotting when I come out again. A nearby florist provides the first of my presents, and I pause to read the synagogue sign. I backtrack a little way to a small indoor shopping centre, where chocolates and brandy are easily purchased.

The sky gets blacker and the rain starts to bounce. People scurry for cover. Nothing for it but to seek shelter until Ania and Hubert have finished their shopping expedition. ‘Degustacja’ meets my requirements perfectly. There’s cake, of course!

Bełchatów has become a big town, with numerous housing estates, largely due to the proximity of the power station. My walk today centres on the older part of town, and nearby there’s also a huge outdoor market. I think it’s fairly typical of many Polish towns.

This website will give you a few facts about the area, including my recently featured Zbiornik Wawrzkowniza. I have one more small town to show you before heading south to Kraków. I hope you’ve enjoyed the series and can come along with me. Meantime, coffee, I think. Don’t you?

Many thanks to all my contributors this week, and to my readers too. As always, there are some great walks featured below. If you’d like to join me, details are on my Jo’s Monday walk page. Just click on the logo.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

I remember Peebles covered in snow and freezing! Lovely to see it through Smidge’s eyes :

The Tweed Valley and Neidpath Castle, Peebles

Jackie goes into a little history of an art form :

Tattooed

Roll up! Roll up! Get your tickets here!

T is for Theatreland#atozchallenge

Becky reminds me just how beautiful the Algarve can be in Springtime :

A quick stroll near Olhao da Restauracao

While Jude is having such a fine time in Cornwall! Almost makes you want to move :

Walking around Trencrom

I am in awe of this lady! Tish, doing ‘qi gong’, surrounded by dappled lushness. Wouldn’t you want to be there?

The power of green and dappled sunlight this morning on the Linden Walk

From nature to architecture, with Jaspa :

The remarkable houses of Bello and Reborati, Montevideo, Uruguay

Do be careful Drake’s green-eyed monster doesn’t get you!

Airborne walk

And please help Esther up the hill, should you see her struggling :

Misty Morning Walk

Pauline gives us lots of reasons to visit Brisbane, and even goes interactive!

Final few hours in Brisbane

I knew about Dumbo in NYC, but I had no idea about this wonderful walk :

Brooklyn Bridge Park

I’m rounding off with a blog that’s new to me, but a place I’ve long wanted to visit. Great photos, too :

Wye Valley: Symonds Yat Circular

That’s it for another week. The weather here has turned dreary, but that’s Bank Holidays for you. I have much catching up to do. See you soon, and happy walking!

Zbiornik Wawrzkowizna

Life is pretty busy for my Polish family, so when I was bundled into the car for a swift outing, between shifts of work, I didn’t know quite what to expect. Staying in rural Zawady, I seldom did. Language so often seemed to get the better of me.

With interest I gazed out of the window as we passed through our local town, Bełchatów, and soon after that turned down a path signed Zbiornik Wawrzkowizna. I know! Not the easiest place name you ever saw. Dad insists that Polish is simple. You just spell out each letter, slowly. Mystified, I followed, as we left the car in woodland parking. A complex of buildings sat off to one side, and a gate led to a small animal farm and stables.

My cousin, Jadwiga, smilingly explained that she sometimes comes here to ride, and pointed out her favourite horse. It was dimly lit in the stables, so I can’t show him to you. Soon though we were out in bright sunlight, beside a swiftly flowing canal and heading towards a vast expanse of water.

Nestled in amongst the trees were a series of tall, green Toblerone-shaped chalets, several of them occupied. A few youngsters lounged on the steps, idling the day away. It felt a little like ‘Center Parcs’ and I realised that it was, in fact, a sports and recreation centre. In Summer there would be an admission charge, but in low season it was free to wander, and we did.

It was wonderfully peaceful, with just the odd angler, casting a line. Fishing competitions are held here sometimes, and in high season there are kayaks and pedaloes for hire. A small child, well-wrapped up despite the warm temperatures, was digging in the sand on the man made beach. Her Dad hovered indulgently nearby. Looking out across the lake at a certain point it becomes impossible not to see what everyone takes for granted around here. Smoke rising from the chimneys of the power station that brought employment to this area. A blot on the landscape.

It’s rather sad, isn’t it? But no-one seems to mind. Jadzia had happy memories of distant summers, spent splashing around in those waters. And we had no time to linger. Her husband was off to work- at the power station, of course.

restlessjo

Roaming, at home and abroad

Poland

My Call to Poland

A walking retrospective

Jo’s Monday walk : Saying goodbye

Jo’s Monday walk : a Tale of 3 Churches

Oskar Schindler’s Enamel Factory

Jo’s Monday walk : Strolling in Kraków

The Palace full of Beauty

Piotrków Trybunalski

Jo’s Monday walk : Bełchatów

Zbiornik Wawrzkowizna

Share this:javascript:void(0);return false;

Share this:javascript:void(0);return false;

Share this:javascript:void(0);return false;

Share this:javascript:void(0);return false;

Share this:javascript:void(0);return false;

Share this:javascript:void(0);return false;

Share this:javascript:void(0);return false;

Share this:javascript:void(0);return false;

Share this:javascript:void(0);return false;

Share this:javascript:void(0);return false;