The Stags of Krakow

Krakow. Whilst it may not be as visually stunning as Prague, it is not quite so full of tourists. For the moment anyway. Having visited the city three times now (Sept 2003, Dec 2004, July 2006) I have seen the ease of reaching Krakow increase, and also the number of backpackers, weekenders and stag parties.

So, what draws the crowds? Well, Krakow has a lovely Stare Miasto (Old Town), centred on the Rynek Glowny. This is supposedly the largest town square in Europe, though its volume is somewhat hidden by the ornate building running along its centre, the Cloth Hall. Once the place visiting merchants hawked their wares (the crests of their home towns still line the roof), it is now an atmospheric place to browse for souvenirs.

Wandering down Ul. Grodzka brings you to the Wawel. Atop the Skalka mound is situated the town's castle / cathedral / palace, home to three dynasties of Polish kings and princes (and also a fire-breathing dragon who is still very much in residence!). It commands a view along the Wisla river. Continuing you come to the district of Kazimierz, once the home of one of Europe's largest and most vital Jewish communities. Now its synagogues bear witness to the fate of its inhabitants, eliminated by the Nazis. It still retains some good atmospheric restaurants though, perfect for all your matzo ball needs.

Krakow is also the perfect base to explore elsewhere in southern Poland, from the disturbing remains of Auschwitz-Birkenau where three million met their deaths, to the stunning scenery of the Tatras mountains—hike through the hills from Zakopane, or raft down the Dunajec gorge along the Slovakian border; for a spiritual fillip take the "Papal Express" to the pilgrimage centre of Kalwaria Zebrzedowska and Pope John Paul II's birthplace in Wadowice, or visit the spectacular Wielizcka Salt Mines and relive your favourite scenes from Lord of the Rings.

Quick Tips:

Whilst the weather has generally been fine while I have visited, be aware that sudden precipitation is the norm. Prepare for thunderstorms in summer and thick, thick snow in winter.

For the perfect souvenir how about a pottery tankard painted with a scene of the Rynek? Touristy? Maybe. But my father swears that his lager tastes better out of that than from a pint-glass and won't use anything else now!

Best Way To Get Around:

The old town is relatively compact and nowhere is further than a 30-minute stroll away, even if you are staying out beyond Kazimierz (as I did first time I visited). Walking is easy and scenic - you may want a taxi should the weather turn nasty mind you!

For a romantic treat why not hire a horse-drawn carriage from which to see the sites? They hang around the Rynek. And at night young men take their place with tricycle rickshaws, providing a cheap and fun way for tipsy revellers to get back to their hotels. Even with three people in the front the cyclists can reach impressive speeds, racing each other around the tight corners of the old town.

Krakow Glowny train station is north of the centre, currently shrouded in scaffolding as the surrounding area is redeveloped. From here you can catch convenient intercity trains to Warsaw, Gdansk and Gdynia on the north coast, or Vienna to the West. Be aware though that to reach Prague you have to take a draughty local train to Katowice and change there. I would recommend visiting Kalwaria or Wadowice aboard the "Papal Express," a brand new train that has only been running since May. Blessed by Pope Benedict, it is a swift and comfortable service with its Vatican-inspired white and yellow livery. Flatscreen TVs entertain you during the trip, showing documentaries chronicling the life of the late John Paul II (Jan Pawel to Poles), particularly his visits to his hometown. A day return is 22 Zl, but be aware that this service only has three trains a day each way!

Even though Oswiencim (the town more frequently known by its German name of 'Auschwitz') is on a main rail-line (which is, after all, what attracted the Nazis in the first place), the station is some way from the museum complex. Far easier is to book a tour through the main tourist office on the Rynek who will then transport you there by coach. The same goes for visits to the mines at Wielizcka.

I love this place! I have spent 7 nights in Krakow on three different trips, and I have dined at Chlopskie Jadlo on four of those nights: twice at the Ul Agniewski branch; and twice in the smaller venue on Ul Jana, one block up from the Rynek.

Here you get "traditional" food in all its, erm, "hearty" glory. With a set-up designed to look like the farmhouse kitchen of its name you may end up sat at a sleigh, a sewing machine table, or at a massive bed. Start with hunks of fresh bread spread with dripping and a draught Okocim as you survey the English menu. Be warned: portions, whilst not the cheapest in Krakow, are amongst the most filling. My habitual meal is "Soup-in-Bread"—a crusty loaf hollowed out and filled with a sour rye-flour zurek, an egg, a potato and a sausage. For your main course they have a wide choice. Chicken in beer batter? Pirogi? Bigos? Flaki (seasoned tripe, only for the adventurous!)? Polish friends assure me the mushrooms are fabulous!

Oh dear. As a nightclub this is a great placed, reached down a (treacherously steep) flight of stairs off the Rynek Glowny. Maybe that's the problem.

First off we were charged a 5 Zl entrance fee. That should have warned us that food wasn't their top priority. It advertises itself as a pizza restaurant, but I'm assuming they only have one oven. There were 13 of us. The pizzas arrived two at a time, 5 minutes between each pair. By the time the last calzone arrived, the first eaters had been finished for 20 minutes.

*Sigh* If you really insist on dining here (maybe there's only two of you, and you can't beat the place for convenience) what are the specialities? Pizza obviously, but due to the Polish menu and the low lighting it's quite hard to see what you're getting. The Schizophrenia is half-and-half, a different set of toppings each side. The Krakowska is laden with local specialities: sliced kielbasa, "bekon" (really cubes of pork rind), pickled cucumber, and cabbage. The Faust is a pizza atop a pizza. The food itself isn't bad, and there is a full bar to back up the meal, followed by dancing (see the nightlife review). Just steer clear if you're in a group!

Liam's rule of travel #7: Never eat at restaurants overlooking tourist centres. They are generally more expensive, and the food more so-so than somewhere local a couple of backstreets away. While this dictum has occasionally been proved wrong, Sioux could be its poster-boy.

Sioux has an adventurous "Wild West" theme. While this might be more pronounced inside the restaurant, out on the Square it merely advertises itself by the waiters in Wranglers and neckerchiefs, the waitresses in fringed suede skirts, and the fact that whatever you order it comes topped with a pastry starfish...which I think was meant to represent a Sheriff's badge).

My first complaint was maybe due to my appalling Polish, but I expected the fillet sandwich to involve a nice bit of steak for the price, and two slices of bread at the very least. No. I got a piece of chicken that looked like it had been run over by a dustcart; a "mixed salad" of cabbage, carrot, and beetroot; and the aforementioned rusty sheriff's badge. It was not, under any possible translations, a sandwich.

Second complaint: the service. The harried looking waiter actually managed to forget one of our meals. Three of us got our food reasonably promptly. The other sat there. And sat there. It was only when we stopped the waiter taking away the sauces that he remembered.

The view of the square was great, but for the price we expected something special, not something third-rate. Don't eat here. Go to the stalls in the square and get a kielbasa roll. They're much tastier, and cheaper too.

In the heart of Kazimierz, the Jewish quarter of Krakow, lies a cluster of restaurants and bars around Szeroka. Many feature folkloric displays and klezmer music. Anatewka - at least on the occasion I visited it - did not. In fact it was lovely and peaceful, the only other diners being a loved-up couple in one corner, and a group of local businessmen in suits.

The decor is 'country-cottage' - net curtains, doilies, dark wooden tables and the odd strategically-placed sewing machine. Whereas at, say, Chlopskie Jadlo the clutter seems kooky and artificial, here you feel that you have stepped into someone's house. The cuisine keeps that impression going. Though there are Jewish specialities on the menu (matzo balls, salt beef), the restaurant is not strictly kosher - there are also a few pork recipes featured too.

One of my rules of thumb while travelling is that any meal served in a clay pot is invariably going to be good. So it proved here, with a rich meaty beef and vegetable stew, served piping hot in an earthenware pot. It proved filling and warming, a great choice for a night when the first chill rains of autumn seemed to have hit. I was dining on my own, so I did not dare order a bottle of wine like the couple in the corner, so I made do with a large bottle of beer. My memory may be being clouded but I also recall a steaming mug of some blackcurrant drink that went down a treat.

Anatewka serves good, filling home cooking just like Fruma used to make, and is not overly touristy. However, for a night out in Kazimierz you would need to move on somewhere more lively after your meal. There is no music or entertainment, and it was quite clear that they close as soon as the last person leaves.

What a place! Lubu-Dubu (the name is onomatopoeic and allegedly refers to the noise of stamping feet) is a kooky little place east of the main square. It seems to have once been a first-floor apartment which has now been converted into a cramped club. Catching on, a couple more clubs have moved into the same block.

The look: red-painted walls, Bruce Lee murals, a '60s to '70s haven.

The music: eclectic but danceable. The Grease Megamix rubs shoulders with New Order's True Faith, Kylie Minogue alternates with local crowd-pleasers.

The clientele: studenty. The sort who are confident of their look. A crowd who didn't seem that concerned with fashion, but just liked to have a really good time. Mainly locals. Good-looking locals. Girls outnumbered boys the time we visited. Two of our party made "special acquaintances."

Bar: nothing special. Surly bar staff.

Hazards: Make sure you know you're way back. And it does get pretty hot in there with no air conditioning. On the dancefloor look for the DJ booth. There are roof-mounted fans circulating the humidity near them. Stand underneath. Breathe.

For a day out, why not try white-water rafting? It's actually not as white-water as you'd think.

Travelling to Poland for a stag weekend for two friends we booked a package from redsevenleisure.co.uk. We opted to spend the Saturday rafting through the Dunajec gorge on the Polish-Solvakian border in the Pieniny region of the Tatras. While it takes a long time to get there (two hours each way in minibus) the scenery at the end is truly spectacular. The gorge winds its way towards the Wisla, towering up to 300 metres above you, the grey cliffs liberally coated with pine trees. Birdlife flits about, from pied wagtails to a black stork which stood placidly watching us.

Safety is paramount. Each member of the group was supplied with a life preserver and helmet. Imagine our surprise, as we paddled furiously off, singing the 'Hawaii Five-O' tune, to see local family unconcernedly watching us as they overtook in flat-bottomed punts! There are several sections of mild rapids, but never any real danger. So our minds soon turned to splashing the other raft of our group, boarding actions, and rugby-tackling each other into the water. In most places the water was shallow enough to be able to stand easily.

The trip ended in the picturesque tourist centre of Szczawnica. There we dried out, sat at tables in the sun along the branch, and ate some of the beautiful "pstrag" (trout) I have ever tasted. I think all of agreed that we would like to visit the town again and take in more of the countryside around it. A marvellous (if wet)day!

I think this would have to be my favourite bar in Krakow. I have been on two separate trips now. Just a couple of doors down on the left from the Florian Gate, opposite the Fashion Cafe, a short covered alleyway leads to the stairs down to this bar. The way is marked by a blue neon cross, imitating the green crosses that signify hospitals. And no wonder. The name "Przychodnia Towarzyska" (don't even try to pronounce it; I gave up after 20 minutes) means "Social Clinic."

The bar is underground, a complex of linked arched brick-work cellars. So far, normal for Krakow—every other bar and club would fit that description. The bar is packed, full of the trendy youth of Krakow. There's not really enough space, so the dancers progress upwards—from dancing on the floor they move to dancing on chairs; from dancing on chairs they progress to dancing on tables; from the tables they clamber up and dance on the bar top—thirsty drinkers have to reach through a swaying, stamping forest of legs to get served. Needless to say girls, avoid short skirts here!

There is such an infectious, good-natured vibe here that I challenge even the most self-conscious visitor to resist their hidden inner impulses. Having always been told (if not in as many words) that dancing on the furniture is wrong, here you find yourself seizing the opportunity with joyous glee.

The drinks are fine and not too expensive. They do seem to have a predilection for using Advocaat in cocktails though. I'd recommend sticking to the Hot Highways: passoa, gin, and orange juice. It does begin to wind down a little by about 4am. The it's time to hit a proper club!

Tucked away on a corner of the Rynek is Faust, the largest club on the square. It bills itself as a pizzeria (but don't eat here—see the Restaurant Review), but doubles as a bar.

A precipitous flight of stairs leads down, made even more dangerous by the people leaving whom squeeze past you. A woman with a cash box charges you your 5 Zl, and then it's down into a maze of brickwork cellars. Candlelight gleams on the wooden tables, shivers on the free-flowing drinks, and lights up a cross-section of Krakow's beautiful ones.

First off, sit and have a drink. The thick brickwork muffles the music, so it is perfectly possible to have conversations.

Then, on the dance floor, squeeze amongst the tightly-packed, writhing bodies. Do not try to take drinks or lit cigarettes onto the dance floor—the burly bouncers will firmly prevent you. The music policy is firmly Euro-dance, with the odd local twist: the crowd went mad when the DJ put on the Russian original of t.A.t.U's "All The Things She Said."

As it's on the main square it attracts a larger proportion of tourists than elsewhere. I found myself chatting to visitors from Ireland, Finland, even a group of girls from the US.

Four am, staggering through the inky December night, and tipsy on mad-dog cocktails...ah, here's a queue of people. In we go!

Roentgen was the inventor of the X-Ray, and within this subterranean club lasers stab through the dry ice. Hands are raised, trying to catch the green and blue needles of light. The music is serious hard-house—not my scene at all. The noise-level is too high to talk. People dance, that's it.

I'm sure this might sound like heaven to many people. For me, tired and predisposed towards the cheesier end of the market, it was a vision out of Dante's inferno. Fortunately, the dance floor was lined with old, over-stuffed couches. I plonked myself down next to an amorous couple and went to sleep.

With Poland's accession to the EU, and the diaspora of skilled young Poles seeking their fortune abroad it is now easier than ever to reach Krakow. When I first visited in September 2003 it was as part of a wider inter-railing tour of Eastern Europe, and train was practically the only way to reach the city. By December 2004, the airport at Balice, 10km outside of town, was processing SkyEurope flights from London Stanstead. Now SkyEurope also fly from Manchester, Stanstead handles flights on Ryanair too, and Easyjet fly from Liverpool. With return flights for under £100 (if you book ahead at the right time of year) Krakow has made itself a name for attracting British stag parties.

What is the attraction? Pretty streets, world-class universities and the odd Da Vinci portrait don't usually entice drunken groups of lads. Well, not all stag parties are the same. You can't spend 24 hours a day getting drunk (well, you can try I suppose). I suppose the main motivating factors are:

1) Adventure. Make an event out of your stag party. Why just spend one evening down your local pub when you can afford a weekend in somewhere exotic? Prague has been done to death. Krakow is ready and available. Get there first!

2) Price. Compared to Britain, it's cheap. Even in trendy nightspots you can order a round of 13 beers and spend only £10. It's cost efficient to buy a bottle of vodka rather than just a round of shots.

3) Girls. Let's face it, there's something about tall, blonde, Slavic beauties with cheek-bones that could cut paper that attracts men. Call it a legacy of growing up watching Bond movies. In clubs and bars you can easily get talking to girls so attractive you would never dare approach them at home. And if that doesn't work, there's always the Prestige strip-club.

4) Culture. Not all lads are beery monsters. It's nice to wander around the old town in the sun, look at the castle. Some friends who visited earlier this year even took a tour to Auschwitz, to see for themselves the site of the gas chambers, to pay their respects, and to try to comprehend the atrocity.

5) The fact that there is now an infrastructure catering to stag parties. redsevenleisure.co.uk arranged transfers to and from the airport, accommodation in the city, and a day out white-water rafting. The guide was on hand to take us on a pub crawl, or otherwise give us advice on what to see and do.

Goth-tastic! Right on Florianska, on the west side there is a doorway to a bar. As with most places in Krakow, a flight of stairs leads down to an interconnecting maze of brickwork chambers. The prevailing theme here seems to be 'biker'--disassembled motorcycles decorate the corridors, affixed to the walls, hanging from the ceiling. The music is hard, Gothic, industrial rock. And predominantly in Polish.

This is a local club for local people, despite its location. The beer is cheap. People seem to have their usual seats in the alcoves and niches off the main bar. The club room is entirely undecorated, save for some camouflage netting over the DJ booth. Black-clad youths pogo and sway. The usual chat-up tactic seems to be for a girl to violently swing her head and whack you with her ponytail. I'm still finding hairs in my mouth 5 days later.
If you are into your rock and want to meet like-minded locals, I'd imagine that this is the place for you. I wasn't that impressed myself (I like my music and poppier). Mind you, we got in for free and the beer was cheap, perfectly fine for just one before you head elsewhere!

Krakow. December. Slush fills the gutters. An icy wind sweeps in from the east. Going out without gloves is a recipe for pain. Why visit Poland at this time of year?

In two words, 'Christmas markets'. These are a big deal throughout Central Europe (even Manchester, my hometown, has imported a 'European Christmas Market' to fill our squares!). Krakow has the real deal. The eastern side of the Rynek fills up with festive merchants. Food stalls sell potent mulled wine, schnitzel in a bun, chocolates, and candies. Local craftsmen sell decorations and gifts: baubles for your tree, intricately carved nativity scenes and cribs, scented candles. They even have the fir trees for you. The air is redolent with the scent of cinnamon, frying meat, perfumes, hot wine, sawdust, and pine. With your hands wrapped around a mug of something warm, you don't notice the cold.

When I visited in 2004, they also had a stage set up, upon which schoolkids performed their traditional songs and dances in brightly coloured costumes, to the obvious and vocal enjoyment of a mixed crowd of Poles and tourists.
So. It's December. You've got no idea what to buy for Grandma or Dad. Take a trip to Krakow. Get them something handmade and traditional from a forest of little wooden chalets as the snow drifts down. Perfectly magical. Try being a grinch now!

The heart of Krakow is the Rynek Glowny. At 200m by 200m it is the largest market area of any European city. Its bulk is broken up though by the Cloth Hall (Sukiennice), the porticoed building at its heart. Now it is a charming and echoing tunnel lined by stalls selling souvenirs. Be sure to shop around, as chances are you can find the same thing at different prices. I would personally recommend the little trees made from twisted wire, with droplets of amber for leaves, and the porcelain tankards. I bought one for my father, and he now refuses to drink out of anything else! Whilst browsing the puppets, icons and (sadly) fur rugs, don't forget to take a look up at the ceiling, where you can see the coats of arms of the towns that historically traded with Krakow.

The most eye-catching site in the square though is the tall and narrow Church of St Mary whose twin towers soar to the north-east. Inside are some spectacular frescoes and stained-glass, but pride of place is the breath-taking altar-piece. The triptych, from the workshop of the justly famed 15th-century master Veit Stoss, is the largest wooden Gothic altar in Europe. Sit and spend your time examining its intricate workmanship.

Try to time your visit, as every hour on the hour a fanfare is blown from the highest of the church's two towers. Know as the Hejnal, this is to Poland what the bells of Big Ben are to Britain, and is still broadcast over Polish radio and TV every noon. The horn stops suddenly mid-note - this is in remembrance of the guard who blew the warning of an approaching army and was slain by a Tartar arrow.

Restaurants surround the main square. In my experience the food isn't much cop though (see my reviews of Sioux and Faust). Better (and cheaper) is to visit any of the stalls in the market for a Polish sausage, a pork escalope, or a bigos - all served with pickled cabbage. During the Christmas markets your choice is even more plentiful, with candies and mulled wine also on offer. There are often street entertainers (in July I visited during a street theatre festival), antiques stalls selling Soviet militaria, or Christmas stalls selling everything you might need to celebrate a joyeux Noel, from presents to candles, from decorations to trees.

Finally, to the South-east there stands a solitary belfry, the only remnant of the 14th-century Town Hall. During summer you can climb the spiral staircase to get a birds-eye view over the square - truly an unforgettable sight!

The Wawel stands proud over the curve of the rivel Wisla. The castle was the residence of Polish kings from the 10th century up until 1611. The Cathedral is the mother-church for Poland, and kings and national heroes from the nation’s turbulent past are honoured in the crypts below.

The complex is the chief tourist attraction in Poland and it does get horrendously busy. I would recommend getting there as early as possible – it opens at 9.30 – to help beat the afternoon rush. The complex system of ticket charges doesn’t help much either. Just glancing through my leaflet reveals charges of 20 Zloty for the Royal private apartments, 15 zloty for the state rooms, 15 for the treasury and armoury, 10 for the belfry and royal crypts of the Cathedral, and 3 zloty for the dragon’s caves. What you can get for free is the stroll up the ramp to the hilltop, the views over the Wisla, the stroll past the green where the foundations of the earlier castle can be seen and into the stunning palace courtyard ringed with balconies, and the main body of the cathedral.

The royal apartments and state rooms are nice, but not hugely inspiring. What you do get is the thought that compared to our preconceptions of what sort of lifestyle royalty tends to enjoy, these apartments are actually pretty spartan: lots of undressed stone with tapestries, carpets and the odd exquisite item of furniture – a chair, a bed, a chest. There are some very nice frescoes too.

The armoury contains weapons. Lots and lots of weapons. This might not be a must-see unless you can already tell your pike from your halberd from your glaive. Kids might like the suits of armour though, and a few exceptionally massive swords.

The Cathedral is well worth a look. There are some finely-carved sarcophagi, and some pretty stained-glass windows. The altar-pieces and paintings are lovely. It is definitely worth buying a ticket for the royal crypts and the belfry. In the crypt you can view a who’s-who of Polish monarchy and various national figures such as the poet Adam Mickiewicz and hero of both American and Polish independence struggles Tadeusz Kosciuszko. Climbing up the belfry gives a sky-high view of the surroundings, and a close-range view of the Zygmunt (Sigismund) Bell, one of the largest in the world.

If you have children, do not neglect the chance to leave via the Dragon’s Den for 3 zloty. A narrow stairway spirals down to a series of natural caverns. Exiting you are guaranteed a sight of the castle’s legendary fire-breathing dragon.

"We’re going to Krakow!" says Chava to her father Tevye when the Russian pogrom forces the Jewish families of Anatevka from their homes at the end of the musical ‘Fiddler On The Roof’. If she and her husband really did take that journey, they would have ended up in Kazimierz, the district to the south-east of the old town. Unlike in the Tsarist Empire, in Krakow – then ruled from Vienna – Jews had equal rights with Christians from 1867 onwards. This saw the Jewish population, which had first settled in the area of Kazimierz under the auspices of King Kazimir the Great in the 14th century, expand into one of the largest and most vibrant communities in the world, ranking with those in Vilnius and Prague. By 1939 the Jewish population in Krakow numbered 64,000, comprising an entire quarter of the citizenry.

The tragedy that befell the Jews of Krakow is part of the tragedy that befell Europe in the 20th century. Of those 64,000, a mere 2,000 survived the Holocaust. The last left Kazimierz in 1968. Today only 1,000 Jews still reside in Krakow, of whom only 200 or so still identify themselves as part of that once-great Jewish community.

The story of the tumultuous rise and sudden destruction of the city’s Jewish population is ably told through a walk around Kazimierz. There are now only two synagogues still in operation. Others are now devoted to recording the history of the district. The Synagoga Izaaka on Kupa Street, and the Historical Museum in the Old Synagogue, a low butter-scotch coloured building with a zig-zagging roof on Szeroka are the best. They each cost 7 zlotys (6 for students). They are crammed with informatory boards looking at the architecture, religious life, culture and even sports of the community. In the Izaak Synagogue men need to cover their head out of respect.

Head coverings are also necessary when visiting either of the two Jewish cemeteries – the 16th century Remuh (2 zloty),and the 19th century New Cemetery (Cmentarza Nowego – free). The gatekeepers can rent hats if you have forgotten them. These cemeteries are leafy, quiet places that speak of peace and contentment, of happier generations. Some graves are still remembered by descendants – these are the ones with piles of pebbles balanced atop the stones.

From here, return to the bustle of the square in Szeroka. Cars park in the centre of the square, but around the edges there are many stalls selling souvenirs, antiques, and old postcards. The square is also ringed with bars and restaurants, many with folkloric shows and klezmer bands. There is even one restaurant down the far end called Anatewka – perhaps Chava and her husband made it after all…?

A good resource for those interested in learning more about the Jewish history of Kazimierz is the Jewish Virtual Library at www.jewishvirtuallibrary.org

Here is not the place to go into the horrors of Auschwitz. I have written more fully in Experiences, as a mere 500 words cannot do justice to the wickedness that this site experienced. An entire tome could not. The only thing to do is visit for yourselves. A visit should be compulsory for all school children, a stark reminder of what happens when intolerance is not challenged. It is a grim and sickening place, but only by seeing it with your own eyes can you attempt to gauge the depravity that once seized Europe.

Now a museum, it is free. I would recommend paying for a tour, though. With a guide, any questions you have can be answered and put into context. The downside is that I felt our guide was rushing us around the museum, not giving me enough time to read all the displays I wanted to.

The trick is getting there. Built as it was around an important rail junction, the town of Oswiencim can be reached by a one-and-a-half hour train journey from Krakow. This deposits you in the town, though, necessitating a walk or a taxi to the camp. Easier is booking a tour through the Orbis travel agency on Krakow's Rynek. They have a variety of pick-up points around town and will ferry you there by coach, with an in-journey documentary in English and a guide to put into context what you will see. They will also transport you from Auschwitz to the larger and more isolated camp at Birkenau.

With transport time, this tour will take up an entire day.

“From my earliest years, my own devotion to Mary was deeply joined to my faith in Christ. The shrine of Kalwaria helped me greatly in this” – Pope John-Paul II.

Whilst in Krakow there is one day trip that must be compulsory for Catholics – and pretty interesting for detached agnostics like myself, too. That is a trip on ‘Pociag Papieski’, ‘The Pope’s Train’, the best introduction an outsider can have to religion, Polish-style.

Pope John-Paul II (Jan Pawel to Poles) was born as Karol Wojtyla in the small town of Wadowice 30km south-west of Krakow in 1920. A powerful influence on his youth was the nearby Calvary of Kalwaria Zebrzydowska, a pilgrimage route for devout Poles determined to follow in the steps of Christ since the early 17th Century. Later of course he became Archbishop of Krakow before his elevation to the Papacy in 1979. Now a brand spanking new train line (only officially opened in May 2006) links these sites for modern-day pilgrims. For 22 zloty you can buy a day return, allowing you to get off and on at will. However, please bear in mind that the tickets are only valid on this train, which only runs three times a day in each direction!

Running from Krakow Glowny the express train is a delight. It has a very distinct livery of gold and white (the colours of the Vatican flag) on its external paintwork, the seat coverings, and even the ties of the friendly English-speaking conductors. Also on the outside can be seen the image of a dove and the words ‘Totus Tuum’, Latin for “I am completely yours”, words of devotion to the Virgin Mary and the motto of John-Paul’s Papacy. Inside flat-screen TVs hang from the ceiling, showing documentaries (in Polish) of the Pope’s career, paying particular attention to his visits back to his homeland. What is apparent from these is that as far back as 1999, six years before his death, he was suffering very badly from Parkinson’s disease, but was determined to continue spreading his message.

First stop on the route is the stunning modern basila at Krakow Lagiewniki, scene of the Pope’s last address to Poland in 2002. From there it continues to the pilgrimage centre of Kalwaria Zebrzydowska, and from thence on to Wadowice, taking about an hour in total.

Wadowice is a pleasant little Polish country town, revelling in the fame of having produced one Pope, and having been visited by his successor earlier this year (while in the neighbourhood Pope Benedict XVI also blessed the train). The Pope’s childhood home is now a museum run by the Nazareth Sisters, where you can see the infant Karol’s actual cot. Outside there are plenty of stalls and shops selling religious iconography, some simple and moving, some tacky and kitsch (ever wanted a John-Paul action figure with opposable joints? Here’s your chance!)

I found Kalwaria much more moving. There are two train stations in the town. Get off at Kalwaria Zebrzydowska Lanscorona – it’s nearer to the centre. Despite this you’ll still have a five minute walk up an inclining street to the heart of the town. Bear left at the roundabout. The road winds up the hill slope, with occasional road signs. At the top there is a junction. The main road continues on, where there is another sign for the sanctuary. However a smaller road splits off to the right, with a high blank wall on its left. If on foot take this turning – a left turn at the top will take you a shorter route past the seminary.

The Basilica of Our Lady of Angels was founded four hundred years ago by Mikolaj Zebrzydoski, the then mayor of Krakow. Intending just to found a Benedictine Monastery, he saw in the rolling pine-clad hills a similarity to the Jerusalem of the Gospels. Yes, I was surprised too. And so he constructed a Via Crucis, or Way of the Cross, with a series of chapels representing the stages of Christ’s Passion as he carried the cross to the place of his execution at Golgotha. His grandson carried on the task until there were 37 chapels representing the story of the crucifixion. This soon developed into a fully-fledged centre for pilgrimage as the devout follow the paths and reflect upon the death of Jesus.

As you walk you pass houses as well as the chapels. Quite a few have little tables set up holding bottles of water or jars of local raspberries, working on a ‘suggested price’ and ‘honesty box’ system. Otherwise there are cafes near the basilica itself or down in the town. Entry to the church is free though there are obvious collection boxes. All in all, it’s a very interesting day out.

At first glance it seemed like a strange idea. We had a free afternoon in Krakow, and I proposed we visit the Wieliczka Salt Mine on the outskirts of the city. My friends were dubious: why would we want to visit a salt mine?

I must admit, my motivations were partially selfish. I knew that the mine was a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Additionally, the last time I had been in Poland, I had met a backpacker in my hostel who had raved about them. However, I managed to persuade my friends to join me on a tour booked with Cracow Tours through Orbis on the Rynek Glowny. The tour (which included coach travel there and back) cost 120 Zl each. I later found out that entry at site was only 65 Zl (55 for concessions), and it would have cost only 2.50-ish Zlotys via either an hourly train (20 minutes), or a bus from opposite the main bus station. However, it was cold and slushy, so maybe a tour was the easiest way to go. The coach picked us up from Pl. Jan Matejki, then spent an inordinate amount of time stopping off at each of the ‘big’ hotels.

Reaching the mines, we found an unremarkable cluster of buildings – not much to look at. But the true treasures of Wieliczka lay beneath our feet. For 7 centuries salt had been mined at this site, salt being one of the most precious treasures of the earth. Since the middle ages, governments had jealously guarded their monopolies over salt mining and distribution. Earlier Roman legionaries had been paid in salt (from which the modern word ‘salary’ derives). The rulers of Poland based in nearby Krakow were no different, and the industry here reported directly to them. In all that time, more than 300km of shafts, passages, tunnels, and chambers had been excavated, reaching a depth of 327m.

Arriving, we were fitted out with miners’ helmets, and proceeded to descend via a wooden staircase of 380 steps into a strange subterranean world of grottoes and caverns. The nearest way to describe it is to refer to the Mines of Moria from the film Fellowship of the Ring – all exposed timber beams, grey stone, and heavy lintels, with the odd chapel thrown in for good measure.

Chapels? Yes. As the tour explains, the job was arduous and dangerous. It was only natural that the miners would turn to religion, particularly St. Kinga, their patron saint. According to legend, the Hungarian princess was pledged to a Polish prince. Asking for a salt mine for her dowry, she threw her ring into a mine in her homeland. Arriving in Krakow, she instructed her new subjects to dig – they found not only rich deposits of rock salt, but also her ring. The first chapel you reach is for Saint Antonius from early in the mine’s development – heavy blocks of rock salt framing plain unadorned portals. Once there were delicate sculptures constructed from salt, but moisture from the entrance has corroded them. As a result, you will see vast airlock doors throughout the complex, to maintain the dry salty atmosphere intact.

The Cathedral of Saint Kinga lies much deeper into the complex, down steep slopes dotted with candle-holding gnomes. It is an incredible sight. The floor, the walls, the ceilings, the altar, the statues, the murals, and even the chandeliers were painstakingly carved from rock salt. It was discovered that rock salt was semi-translucent, and that candles could be displayed behind the carvings to make them glow a warm amber colour. Examine the bas-relief copies of da Vinci’s famous Last Supper, seemingly stretching away deep into the wall, but really only an inch at most deep. A new statue honours Pope John Paul II. Throughout the complex there are statues of the most prominent visitors – King Casimir the Great, Polish astronomer Nicolas Copernicus, and German man-of-all-talents Johann von Goethe.

Passing dark forboding lakes of brine you finally reach the end of a tour, where a tight, multiple-storey elevator shoots you up 135ms – claustrophobes and scotophobes beware!

The whole tour takes around 3 hours and involves walking roughly 2km, so wear decent shoes. Temperature is a constant 14 degrees C, so take a sweater. The dry atmosphere is great for those with asthma or respiratory conditions, though – there is still a sanitarium in another part of the mine dealing with similar ailments (though in the 19th century it focused more on infertility, hysteria, and “illnesses resulting from excesses in love”! - 3,000 patients were treated in a 10-year period – that’s a whole lotta love!).

For up-to-date information, check out the mine’s website at www.kopalnia.pl.

A small corner of Poland is forever etched on the conscience of the world as the scene of almost unimaginable horrors. In 1939, the town of Oswiencim was blessed with good rail connections, proximity to industry and the major Jewish communities of eastern Europe, and a Polish army barracks. These blessings were to be its undoing. Now it is infamous as its German name: Auschwitz. For this town became the site of the most horrifically efficient of all the Nazi death camps. At first a concentration camp for Poles deemed a threat – officers, teachers, scout leaders – it soon powered up to exterminate Slavs, Gypsies, Communists, homosexuals, and, most notoriously, Jews. In all, roughly 1.5 million souls met their ends here.

A visit to Auschwitz is not recommended for the sensitive or easily upset. The museum does not pull its punches. The Jewish friend I was travelling with flatly refused to accompany me. Its horrors are laid thickly one over the other. Upon arrival, you watch a documentary showing footage of the camp and its liberation. As the Soviets closed in from the east, the Nazis abandoned the camp, driving those who were fit enough to walk before them in the March of Death. The weak, the infirm, and the sick were left behind, walking skeletons on the verge of death whose emaciated frames greeted their liberators. From there you enter the old Polish army barracks that formed the original nucleus of the camp, pleasant red-brick buildings interspersed with trees – if it were not for the barbed wire and the watchtowers and the signs reading “Halt! Stoj!” you might forget where you were. You pass beneath the wrought iron gate with its dark motto ‘Arbeit macht frei’ – ‘works makes you free.’ For the central conceit was that this was a work camp – those who worked well would be freed. Instead, strong workers would only have their liquidation postponed while their wives, parents, and children perished.

The barrack buildings are now a museum, each room a new hammer blow. The maps detailing where the prisoners were shipped from – Krakow, Hungary, the Baltic States, and even as far away as France and the Netherlands. The numbers – 3,000 from here, 482 from here, 6,000 from here, each numeral a real person slaughtered for a mad ideology. The photos – at its inception, full accounts were kept of those sent here, members of any potential Polish resistance: photo, name, occupation. Over and again the same phrase reappears: nauczyciel, nauczyciel, nauczyciel – teacher, teacher, teacher. The Germans were here to stay, and they wanted to eliminate every trace of an independent Polish culture. Then the exhibits. Case after case crammed with shoes, spectacles, dolls, and human hair. Sacks and sacks of human hair, shaved from the prisoners, to stuff pillows and cushions to aid in the war effort. I had seen many of the exhibits before at London’s Imperial War Museum, but that room of hair was nauseating.

My criticism would be that the museum is busy, full of people. You never get the chance to read all the boards or take in what you are seeing as your guide hurries through. The exhibits are shocking, but you merely feel that you are in a museum with no psychic residue of the atrocities committed here.

That is not the case at Birkenau. As the extermination programme stepped up, the needs of the Final Solution outgrew the original site. Another camp was constructed on the outskirts of town, a camp of wooden huts, the train line running into its rotten heart, beneath a brick arch to a siding where families would be torn asunder, the strong rerouted to work projects; women, the elderly, the infirm, and children sent off to the gas chambers disguised as shower blocks. Here the assistants of Dr Josef Mengele would select children, particularly twins, to vanish into his labs to be the subject of eugenic experiments. Now the huts are gone, except for a few reconstructions, and the gas chambers and crematoria demolished by the retreating Germans, hidden beneath a screen of trees. Yet, the archway and siding are instantly recognisable from any number of films, from Schindler’s List to X-Men. And here you feel alone, the vast scale of the site shocking you, the cold breeze chilling, the trees silent. The absence of bird song oppresses. Here you can feel the evil.

At the treeline there is a row of plaques. Written in all the languages of those who perished here, plus English, they read “For ever let this place be a cry of despair and a warning to humanity, where the Nazis murdered about one and a half million men, women, and children, mainly Jews from various countries of Europe. Auschwitz-Birkenau 1940-1945.”