Poland
1999
Each autumn since 1987 I've joined the Tramway
Museum Society's Annual trip to look at trams (as well as to do the odd
bit of sightseeing). Of course there are those who assume this to be an
outing dominated by Thermos flasks and anorak-wearing, notebook carrying
hairies with rucksacks full of pens and discarded Mars Bar wrappers. Of
course this isn't the case at all. Well, not quite.......
Friday 5 November
I get up at some unearthly hour to drive to an obscure village on the
outskirts of Wolverhampton. Meeting my travelling
companion we take a taxi to Hilton Park Services and settle into one of those
overpriced cups of tea only obtainable in such places. A telephone call from
the coach operator (also call ed Ian; this going to get confusing!) lets us
know he's on the coach park waiting for us (!) so we sheepishly make our way
out to join the group, most of whom have travelled down from Leigh, near
Manchester.
Having been holidaying with this group for the last thirteen years, as
usual there are lots of familiar faces, so the earlier part of the journey is
taken up with "hellos" and "how are yous?" and so on. For
me it makes a very pleasant change not to be worrying about timings, motorway
traffic and ferry tickets, too!
After picking up the last member of our party at Medway Services on the M2
and observing the Channel Tunnel High Speed Rail Link under construction, we
arrive at Dover well ahead of
schedule, in plenty of time for the boat in front in fact. At this point,
though, two "howevers" enter onto the scene. The first
"however" is that this "boat in front" turns out to be so
late that it sails at the time allotted to the at we should have been on (if
you see what I mean); the second "however" is that the sea is very
rough indeed and we end up later than we were meant to be in Calais. So much
for "ahead of schedule". (Mind you, at least we're a friendly,
fun-loving group. Some of the people I take away would have had my limbs torn
apart for giving them "problems" like this!)
Nonetheless, we eventually make Calais
and set off on our cross continental trip to the first night's hotel in the
Belgian city of Antwerp (which
the Belgians like to call Antwerpen if they're Dutch-speaking or Anvers
if they're French-speaking; there's a great deal of linguistic confusion here
for such a small country).
I never get to sleep on coaches, so I make up for lost time on this
occasion by quietly dozing. Before I know it we're passing Ghent
(which the Belgians like to call Gent; or Gand; see
what I mean?!) Antwerp (or
Antwerpen or "Anvers") is reached in no
time. At once, we see the Tramway Museum Society swinging spectacularly into
action. Dinner (Chicken Kiev; we had this in this hotel last year!) is served
within 20 minutes of our arrival and consumed at a frightening speed which
leaves the waiting staff gaping with the sort of awe no doubt exuded by
Cortez when he first saw the Pacific. Why the rush? Well, the evening is
wearing on and everyone wants a tram ride!
We eventually descend on the Antwerp
(I'll stick to calling it that for simplicity!) tram system. Four of us have
the good sense to walk back one stop from the hotel to buy our ticket
from the driver. This step is justified when we arrive at the hotel stop to
find about 40 other TMS members all queuing and offering high denomination
motes to the baffled driver who was obviously looking forward to a quiet
Friday night on the 24 route. After a look at the new tram subway it's back
to the hotel for a quick beer in the loudest bar I've ever encountered) and
some well-earned sleep!
Saturday 6 November
Today is mostly spent travelling across Belgium
and Germany.
In preparation for our visit to Krakow later in the
week, it is decided to show the video of Schindler's List on the
coach. Although heavy going and obviously a very sombre film, there's no
doubt that it sets the scene very well indeed. There's little else that can
be added on such a subject.
We arrive around 5.30pm at the
new (12 months old) Holiday Inn, Plauen.
Plauen is one of the few East
German cities with a tramway that we've not graced with our company in the
last few years so it was about time we paid it at least a passing visit.
A bout of tram riding is in order before dinner. The system, although small,
is very well run The trams all connect in the Centre (at the inappropriately
named "Tunnel" stop; there's no tunnel, just a triangular
junction). We sample route 4 out to Plamag where I manage to befriend the
female tram driver. She's very impressed that we're all the way from England
and tells us that she used to get her hair colouring from there.
Unfortunately, she explains, its no loner available. Judging by the colour of
her hair, we're doing her (and the German environment) a favour by halting production.
Mind you, she lets me drive her tram around the Plamag turning circle!
Back at the hotel, dinner is followed by a visit to a bar in
Bahnhofstraße and bed around midnight.
Sunday 7 November
Never share a bedroom with someone else who has a Psion. The sound of two
of them going off at 0630 is no way to begin any day, let alone one when
you're on holiday.
We kick off Sunday morning by running the coach engines for 45 minutes,
thereby waking the population of the apartment blocks opposite! However, after
the usual TMS morning befuddlement we were off for our first visit of the
day, to Plauen's "Pioneer
Railway".
Once a ubiquitous feature in many Eastern Bloc towns, the Pioneer railway
was a miniature railway run by local children, theoretically at least, to
prepare them for a life working on the State Railway, or in this case the
local tramway undertaking. Plauen's
example is (unusually) electric and is operated in a quiet city park, running
around a crazy gold course and a go-kart track. The trip includes the chance
to see half the group depart on the open sided carriages, which then return
empty. Shades of Schindler's List!
We are then presented with a selection of postcards and - bizarrely! -
camera straps decorated with pictures of steam locomotives! From there it is
a short drive to the depot of the PSB (Plauener Straßenbahnen). We had
the usual peer around the depot, followed by a City tour on Tatra KT4D set
210+217. (Those of you who want to know what this means will do so already!).
Part of Plauen's network (to
Waldfrieden and Reusa) is closed at the moment so we ride out along part of
the closed section.
Lunch is taken at a Service area near Dresden.
These aren't usually the most exciting places on the planet, but the
Frikadellen ( = faggots) were rather nice and the place even had an old Berlin
S-Bahn carriage parked outside for some reason.
On arrival at the Polish frontier near Görlitz we have our first
encounter with Polish officialdom. Much studying of passports and
form-filling is followed by customs relieving the operator of 50 Zlotys for a
week's use of Polish roads (we're being done here).
Once over the frontier we notice vast queues of traffic coming the other
way making a mental note that getting out of the country at the end of the
week might take some time......
Initial views of Poland
from the coach are mixed: endless places selling ceramic goods, a night club
with a very revealing model as the sign, a "Non Stop Restaurant"
(closed) and many, many places selling garden gnomes!
After a gap of some kilometres, we finally rejoin the Polish motorway
system. This is so badly surfaced that it puts any theme park white knuckle
ride totally in the shade. The hotel, now a Novotel, was originally
one of Poland's
state owned Orbis chain and, although comfortable, still shows many
signs of its Communist past. The shower is disguised as a sink tap and everything
is still stamped Orbis. It does however have a handy little kiosk for
selling newspapers, maps and, yes, tram tickets, so that's soon doing a brisk
trade. The (gorgeous) young girl serving even understands my (very
rudimentary) Polish and beams back at me in the most charming way. Few Poles
do that, for some reason.
Dinner is bizarre. Modesty forbids me explaining what the meat actually
looked like, but it tastes nice enough. Suitably fed and watered, we decide
to embark on a tram riding expedition. The obscurely accented Polish on the
destination screen appears to inform us that service 22 runs from "Pork
Pie" to "Pilchard" via "Legionella"! Or something
like that anyway.
In reality the "expedition" becomes a return trip to the railway
station which has a handy (and cheap and scruffy) bar. One of our number,
Peter, wants to buy a Polish National Railway timetable. After visiting four
separate ticket windows, we give up on this one as a bad job. Poles obviously
don't often buy railway timetables.
Next to us in the station bar is a group of four young people. One of the
girls is very, very "tired and emotional". So much so in fact that
she lies spread-eagled across the table for most of the time, before slowly
sliding to the floor as the evening wears on. Attempts by her (none to sober)
friends to pick her up go disastrously wrong when she simply slides out of
her coat and jacket, revealing an interesting line in black lace underwear,
all this in the middle of a station pub! When they finally stagger out and
their table is being cleaned, an empty Vodka bottle appears. Mystery solved!
Monday 8 November
Today we have a free day in Wroclaw.
(Pronounced "Vrots - lahf".)
We begin by confounding our pre-booked tour guides and interpreters, one
of whom is called, believe it or not, Aggie! They want us to travel from the
hotel into the City Centre by coach. This is normal. This I of all people
know. This is what sane groups do. And we have two of them (coaches,
that is), sitting on the hotel forecourt.
We however, are not sane. All 50+ of us want to go into town by service
tram. No end of protestations by the guides fall on deaf ears. We even give
them a ticket each! (I have to say that, under different circumstances, I'd
be with the guides on this! I kept wondering how I'd react if a group did
this to me.) However, we do eventually manage it (only leaving two people
behind).
By now, though, we're facing a different problem. It's wet. Very wet. In
fact, it's bucketing down. And, charming country that Poland
is in many ways, they do seem to have a problem with pavements and
roads. There are great wallowing holes, filled with water (and for all I know
the odd Lada or tractor). Polish motorists seem to delight in driving past
these a speed, sending up splashes of water which drench any passers by not
wily enough to dodge out of they way. We soon become very adept at the
latter.
The two vintage trams provided for the tour were certainly full of
character, though. In true tourist style (!) our tram riding was interrupted
while we were taken around the outside of the "Building of the One
Hundredth Anniversary" (snappy title, eh?) because "the pergola is
so interesting even in such weather"! You will go, Comrade. And
you will enjoy! Accordingly, we were all marched around the (drained!)
ornamental lake in front of this concrete rotunda, for no apparent reason. To
be honest it was all a bit surreal, although we did see the great
"pinnacle" scaled by members of the Solidarity trade union
in the heady days of the eighties, to unfurl one of their banners.
From there we engage in yet more tram riding through the very pretty woods
in the East of Wroclaw, before enjoying a depot visit and a talk from the
head of the Transport Department. His English is good and he is obviously a
man of great vision, explaining how Poles are desperate to underline their
new-found wealth by buying and driving cars as much as possible. This puts an
inevitable strain on the road system as well as reducing income for the
Public Transport department at a time when it most needs it. Unfortunately,
the system is in very poor repair and needs huge investment. The latest idea
is to levy a parking tax on public car parking spaces in the City Centre and
use that to fund better public transport; but it seems to be an uphill
struggle. I wonder what he'd make of John Prescott?!
Finishing at the depot we sample the interurban line out to the East
(where we find a statue of Pope John Paul II at the terminus) before heading
into the City Centre.
 The central
Market Place is really beautiful, surrounded by recently repainted merchants'
houses. The centre of the square is dominated by the Town Hall and we dine at
the Spitze, a cellar bar and restaurant beneath it, a common feature
of German, or in this case former German, towns. (Until 1945,
"Wroclaw" was the German city of Breslau.) The food at the Spitze
is so good that we vow to return in the evening.
A final bit of tram riding to the north of the city (with a quick toilet
and drying-out pause in a Burger King) is marked by so much rain and
so many puddles that we head back to the hotel to dry out. Even that journey
involves negotiating a series of mudbanks worthy of 1916 France.
Even trams apart, though, Wroclaw
is a delightful city, especially around the old Rynek (Market) area,
with delightful gabled buildings, all beautifully restored since the fall of
Communism.
As promised, we return to the Spitze for dinner and, in company of
eight or so friends, enjoy a charming and convivial evening. Despite the
weather, a great way to end a great day.
Tuesday 9 November
A rather horrible breakfast (for once I'm glad I don't like eggs) kicks
off the day. Our plan is to spend the day in Katowice,
Poland's industrial
heartland and centre of a 200km tramway system spanning several towns.
Initial signs aren't good, though: the Rough Guide says of the
Sileasian coalfield "do yourself and your health a favour by avoiding
the place all together". Hmmm.
Some 35km west of the area we start to taste something foul in the air;
this is inside the coach. We begin in the west of the conurbation, in Gliwice.
These days it's principally famous as the home of a large Opel (= Vauxhall =
Holden} factory, building the "Classic" (i.e. old-style} Astra.
Indeed, we pass a field containing hundreds of the things a few kilometres
before Gliwice.
From there the road surface, poor at the best of times, deteriorates
rapidly. We also pass our first prostitute of the trip, thumbing lorry
drivers in a lay-by (this at 10.30am!).
We have a tour (of the tramway, not the prostitutes!) arranged spanning
the Western part of the Katowice
region, which is actually several disparate towns linked by partly rural
tramways. We arrive on time for our tour of Gliwice
depot and works. There's a very nice overhead line superintendent who speaks
German so I end up doing the translating. This is feeling less like a holiday
by the hour, particularly when someone asks about 12 pole
something-or-others.
We then depart for a tour via Gliwice
and the nearby town of Bytom,
pausing at a station before heading off to Radzionkow depot, at the northern
tip of the Bytom system. The
journey to this passes a very polluted stream, lots of fields, an abandoned
coal mine and lots and lots of "Colony Gardens", a bit like British
allotments but used for relaxation rather than the growing of vegetables.
These are quite common in Germany
and - apparently - Poland.
Judging by the attention we attract, I suspect that the system doesn't get
many tourists. At both depots the staff are incredibly friendly and helpful;
they obviously don't get much in the way of tourism either. At Radzionkow the
manager even drives one of the old four wheel trams up and down the yard
doing emergency stops and for photographs, although I suspect that this is
because he's looking for any excuse to get out of the office and playing with
a tram is as good a way as any.
After the tour, we find ourselves with time to spare in Bytom.
After sampling the delights of its route 38 (the last refuge of a 4-wheel
car, shuttling back and forth at an erratic timetable), we abandon all
culture and brave a Polish McDonald's. Amazing how anything preceded
by "Mc" can appear the same in any language.......
We eventually have to make our way across the conurbation to Chorzow
(pronounced "Hozow"; I'll never get used to Polish) to rejoin the
coach. The journey takes us via yet more abandoned heavy industry and
allotment gardens ass well as the Konstal factory which builds most of
Poland's
trams.
After rendezvousing with the coach we head off to Krakow.
On arrival in the City. it is immediately obvious that this is a very
different place from the other Polish cities we've seen; it's altogether more
prosperous. Of course, the Hotel Ibis looks like every other Ibis
on the planet though.
After dinner we retire to the bar for a very, er, "merry"
evening before retiring for the night in preparation for the first hangover
of the holiday.........
Wednesday 10 November
We kick off the day with a ride on tram 9 to visit the two Jewish Ghetto
areas of Krakow.
There had been Jews in the city for six centuries, mostly in the Kazimierz
area between the river and the city centre. We begin by walking around there,
visiting the old market place, passing several Synagogues and finding the
tiny courtyard off the Ul. Jozefa where some of the scenes for the film Schindler's
List were filmed.
The film tells the story of the Nazi extermination of Krakow's
established Jewish population during the war. In 1941, the Jews were
evacuated from this area to a new Ghetto south of the river from where, as Schindler's
List graphically illustrates, they were taken in 1943 to a prison camp
just south of the city. Many ended up in the notorious Concentration Camp at Auschwitz,
which we shall visit later in the trip.
We cross over the river to visit the remains of the Ghetto, including part
of the wall which once surrounded it (the penalty for being found on the
"wrong side" of the wall was summary execution).  We
also journey to find the former Emailia Factory, set up by German
industrialist Oskar Schindler to provide work for Jews whom he eventually had
transferred to a new works in Czechoslovakia.
These people, on "Schindler's list", were thus saved from the fate
which befell so many of their brethren, earning a special place in Jewish
culture for Schindler, whose story came to a fuller public with Thomas
Kenealley's Booker-prize winning book and Steven Spielberg's film.
 On
a (slightly) lighter note, in the afternoon we visit the salt mine at
Wieliczka (the words still don't get any easier to pronounce, do
they?). I feel very much at home as the visit starts with a great deal of
confusion about the group price and how much we have to pay.
This is partly caused by the amazingly complicated pricing structure of
the place, including supplements for the use of the lift in either direction!
Accordingly, we begin our visit by descending close on 200 steps!
The mine proves to be a fascinating place, though. Vast caverns carved out
of the rock are adorned with various sculptures, again, all in salt. Some are
serious, for example that telling of the bringer of the Salt, Saint Kinga,
while others are more light-hearted, like one depicting the seven dwarves!
Some of the chambers are even partly flooded to provide great subterranean
lakes, all saturated with salt and equipped with artificial wave machines to
provide flickering water reflections on the walls.
The most enchanting place, though, is Saint Kinga's Chapel, a great
chamber more than 100 metres down with salt crystal chandeliers, wonderful
wall carvings and even a new statue of Polish-born Pope John Paul II, which
we are lucky enough to see nearing completion. The sculptor even gave us all
small pieces of salt crystal carved from it!
The temperature underground remain constant at 14C and the iodine in the
air is said to be beneficial to health. There's even a Sanatorium down there
to take advantage of this!
It's a fascinating afternoon out; indeed. we end up spending nearly 2
hours underground before squeezing (and I do mean squeezing!) into a 4 storey
lift (sic) to return to the surface.
En route back to Krakow we encounter a fairly
spectacular traffic jam, which the tour organiser decides can be made more
bearable if there's a short commentary about the Jewish Ghetto to pass the
time. And guess who ends up doing that commentary?!
In the evening we take a tram into the centre of Krakow
and enjoys lovely meal in restaurant on the Glowny Rynek (meaning the
"Main Market"; we're getting good at this now!).
I have "Mushroom Soup in Bread" to start. I kid you not: it's a
flowerpot-shaped loaf, hollowed out and filed with mushroom soup! For the
main course, several of us decide to try to wild boar, which turns out to be
delicious, too! From there we dodge the rain to catch the tram back to the
hotel.
As in the other Polish cities we've visited, public transport starts to
close down around 10.30pm and
we're only just in time. A swift nightcap at the bar rounds of another
enjoyable day.
Thursday 11 November
Today sees a choice of staying in Krakow or going
on back to Katowice. Krakow
wins hands down.
This proves to be good choice, since the city is incredibly beautiful.
The centre essentially consists of a fairly-tale castle & cathedral (and
burial place of most of Poland's
Kings since this was once the capital), together with the historic Glowny
Rynek
 However we
begin with a problem: the tramway ticket office is closed as today is a
public holiday, marking not only the end of the First world War but also the
foundation of the modern Polish state, both in 1918. Poland's
flag is flying everywhere; and I mean everywhere, including from trams
and buses. This necessitates a visit to the City Centre to buy a day ticket
but then we're off.
In fact, we begin by heading to the industrial suburb of Nowa Huta,
constructed after the Second World War around one of the largest steelworks
in the world. (Indeed, "Nowa Huta" means "New
Steelworks".) The works were based on plans for a steel plant in Pittsburgh
in the USA,
stolen by the Eastern Bloc in the late 1940s. Even then, it was built to an
outdated design and now produces vast amounts of pollution. Closing it own,
though, is a sensitive issue, as it provides massive local employment.
Indeed, the suburb (well town really) of Nowa Huta only exists as a dormitory
for the steelworks.
The central square of Nowa
Huta is amazingly impressive, surrounded by
arcaded shops that look as though they ought to be in Turin
or Paris or somewhere (well, I
exaggerate, but only a little). Certainly they don't look like the creations
of 1950s Poland,
which they are. Elsewhere, Nowa Huta has rather more open space than we might
have expected, too.
The steelworks was established by the postwar Soviet-dominated government
to create a loyal working class counter to the Catholic intelligentsia of Krakow
University. In the event it
didn't work as Nowa Huta was one of the hotbeds of unrest in the early
eighties which led to the establishment of the free trade union Solidarity.
Today, one of Nowa Huta's principal roads is called "Solidarity
Avenue"; another is called "John Paul II Avenue", which brings
us neatly on to Krakow's other claim to fame.
Karol Wojtyla, Archbishop of Krakow and one time poet and goalkeeper (I
kid you not) was elected Pope John Paul II in 1978. The Roman Catholic church
is very strong in Poland
and provided a central rallying point during the communist era. The election
of a Polish Pope really changed the country for ever and may even have been a
contributory factor in the change to a parliamentary democracy. Incredibly,
Nowa Huta had been built without any place of worship: there are now three.
One of them, opened by the Pope himself, is named after Maximillian Kolbe, a
Catholic Priest who too the place of a Jew in an Auschwitz
gas chamber.
Nowa Huta is linked with Krakow by two express tram
routes. so we decided to sample one in one direction and return via the
other. We also indulge in some local riding on the network of route serving
Nowa Huta itself. Some of the track out there is appalling. This surprises us
as that in Krakow itself (and the trams themselves)
are much better maintained than those we have seen elsewhere in Poland.
 The entrance to
the steelworks is dominated by the "CAHTS" (Central Administration)
building. Like the arcades in Place Centralny, this is something of an
architectural surprise, looking almost like an Arabic palace. It is, however,
very dirty, coated by layers of the gunge being pumped out into the
atmosphere by the works.
One route out there passes the local cemetery. Like all in Poland
this is beautifully maintained and a riot of flowers. We are unable to stop
wondering if some of the people in there are dead as a result of Nowa Huta's
pollution, though.
We eventually head back to Krakow and decide that
it's time for lunch! We enjoy a lovely Pizza at a little restaurant just off
the Rynek Glowny. The toilets here are accessed by borrowing a key
from the bar. This is also where I discover the Polish for "please don't
go in there, my wife's on the toilet". Oops
Next we visit the old (and spectacular) Cloth Hall which dominates
the centre of the Rynek, to do some shopping. Particularly good local
buys are Amber and chess sets. Even though Krakow is
very touristy, prices are still very good.
On the corner of this most beautiful of squares is the Church
of Saint Mary, from which a
trumpeter plays a tune every hour on the hour. This is said to have been the
tune played as a warning centuries ago that the Tartars were about to attack
the city and it ends abruptly at the point where the original trumpeter was
shot through the neck! This tune is so embedded into Polish nationalism that
it is played daily at noon on
national radio.
More tram riding is then followed by dinner which in turn is followed by a
visit to the bar, packing and bed!
Friday 12 November
After breakfast we say our goodbyes to Krakow and
depart, ultimately, for the German city of Goerlitz.
Today begins on a sombre not with a visit to the World War II Nazi
Concentration camps at Oswiecim, better known by its German name of Auschwitz.
It is difficult to put into words the story that unfolded there and what
we see. In the early days of the German occupation the Germans took over a
Polish Army barracks and turned it into a prison camp for criminals, gypsies
and other "undesirables". It came to be transformed, though,
principally into a place of imprisonment and extermination for around one to
one and a half million people, mostly, though not exclusively, Jews.
There are actually two camps at Auschwitz: Auschwitz
itself (sometimes referred to as "Auschwitz
I") and one 3km away at Birkenau ("Auschwitz II").
The former is entered through the infamous gate over which a cast iron
sign informs those entering that Arbeit Macht Frei ("Work brings
freedom"). Inside, a series of two storey brick huts, originally a
Polish Army barracks, contained accommodation for inmates brought from all
over the German occupied territories. Today, most of them are devoted to a
specific purpose, telling of the suffering of a particular nationality
perhaps, or depicting daily life in the camp. The camp's own
"prison", for those who "broke the rules", is a block
next to the grim "Wall of Death" against which prisoners were shot.
However, it is Auschwitz's role as a "death
camp" for which it is particularly infamous. While exterminations did
take place at Auschwitz I, the majority occurred at
Auschwitz II, Birkenau, our next port of call.
(Incidentally, I'm writing this on the coach in the coach park waiting for
some of the group to return. This is the quietest and most subdued I've ever
seen this group of people.)
 Auschwitz II
at Birkenau looks much more like one would expect a Concentration Camp to
look: endless barbed wire, watch towers and rows and rows of huts, a few
still standing but most marked only by their foundations.
It was to this camp that the Nazis laid a dedicated railway line, bringing
in prisoners, 75% of whom were taken directly to the gas chambers and
crematoria at the far end of the platforms. In the closing days of the war,
the Germans tried to blow up this part of the camp, although without total
success. Today the site contains the ruins of some buildings and the International
Monument to the Holocaust.
At midday we finally leave the
grim surroundings of Auschwitz and head off for a
lunch stop en route to Görlitz. This lunch stop proves to be in Glwice.
For some reason, though, it doesn't look like the Glwice we saw the other
day!
I find McDonald's and end up learning the Polish for "Would you like
that supersized, sir?" I'm getting quite good at this, I allow myself to
think. Oh and a full meal costs around £1.40!
Armed with linguistic confidence I head back to the railway station to ask
for a Polish National Railway Timetable. Alas! whatever I asked for led to a
string of rapid-fire Polish consonants from the lady behind the counter.
Whatever it was, I didn't get a timetable
. Leaving Glwice, we pass a layby filled with parked up lorries. Oh and a
lady in a short leather skirt plying for trade. She's wasting her time with a
coach filled with tram enthusiasts, that's for sure.......
To pass away a bit of time on the journey we all watch a video chronicling
the final days of the Glasgow tramway system; a bit odd to be looking at that
in Southern Poland somehow!
We then encounter a bit of officialdom at the Polish/German border post. The
Customs officials are a bit suspicious of the coach as it's been registered
for VAT in Germany,
thus removing the need to pay a road tax "on the spot" as it were. Further
amusement is provided when I'm summoned by the drivers to help with the
translation in the Customs Office. I hear an officer's instruction to
""wait beyond the Monk!" A bit baffled by this at first, I
follow the officer's gaze to see a Monk waiting in the queue!
We eventually arrive at the Hotel Mercure, Görlitz (just
inside Germany) to find that they don't even have the keys ready. The group
leader decides to employ my hotel check-in talents (!) by asking me to
get behind the reception desk. The receptionists are a bit taken aback but
it's an effective solution!
After dinner I decide it's too late to go tram riding or strolling across
the bridge into Poland so, after a drink at the bar, I head for bed.
Saturday 13 November
We leave Görlitz for our long journey across Germany to Wuppertal at
8.00am.
However, we begin our day with a ride on Görlitz tram route 2 from
Landekrone to Virchowstrasse. The locals seem a bit bemused that their
normally quiet Saturday morning tram wide is punctuated by about 50 Britons
sporting cameras!
We're soon on the motorway, though. En route, we encounter our first snow
of the winter, dusting the pine trees just before Dresden. Not long
afterwards we find ourselves in a traffic jam caused by an Umfall
(accident). It soon clears, though.
The fog and the journey are made more bearable by the video of Mr.
Bean, the Movie, which has most of the party rolling in the aisles. Well,
it makes a change from tram videos!
After a very nice lunch at a motorway service area (not often you see
those words together in the same sentence, is it?) we continue via rain, fog,
another showing of Schindler's List (this time so that we can play at
spotting the locations), a travelogue about the Trans-Canada Railway and more
sleep.
Brian, who likes to listen to his radio as he travels, brings us all the
news that England
have beaten Scotland
2 - 0 at Wembley. (He has a knack for this sort of thing; earlier in the week
he was able to tell us all that Australia
had voted to remain a Constitutional Monarchy.)
We eventually arrive in Wuppertal
in the early evening and enjoy a hasty dinner before all dashing out to see
the town' principal highlight: the Schwebebahn. Built at the turn of
the century and modernised in the eighties, the Schwebebahn is a
suspended monorail system running above the River Wupper. There's nothing
else quite like it anywhere and I've only ever sampled it once before.
Imagine how we all feel, then, to discover that the thing is closed for the
weekend for maintenance! Still, we soon drown our sorrows by finding a nice
bar opposite the hotel which even serves Kölsch (the local beer
of my old stamping area of Cologne,
just down the road). And so to bed.
Sunday 14 November
And so we leave Wuppertal for Calais.
The weather is the wettest and foggiest we've encountered on the trip. We
kick off the journey along the motorway with a discussion about upcoming trips
of this nature. Those already "in the pipeline" include San
Francisco and Austria.
Australia
looks like the most promising after that.
The remainder of the journey is passed with videos and this year's quiz
(set by yours truly!). Although booked on the 1400 ferry, we eventually sail
on the 1345, the Pride of Kent. And what better way to return to British life
than to enjoy a chicken curry on the boat!
Here's to the next time!
© Ian Jelf 17 November 1999
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