Poland at Christmas: Walking in a Wroclaw Wonderland
Timothy Snyder’s ‘Bloodlands’ details the barbaric brutality imposed on Eastern Europe from the Second World War through to the end of the Cold War in 1989. Encompassing the entirely avoidable and heart-achingly tragic famine in the Ukraine and the nadir of Western Civilisation that was the Holocaust, it is a painful but necessary read for anyone intent on travelling between the Baltics and the Balkans. Poland is afforded more attention than anywhere else and having read it one would be forgiven for assuming it to be a country shrouded in its history’s shadow for eternity. Mercifully, this is not the case.
My sojourn through Poland would last a week and see me visit Wroclaw, for it architecture and Christmas Markets, Lodz for no reason in particular and finally Warsaw, a city laced with historical significance and unbeknownst to me before arriving there, sublime city-scapes to boot.
Poland has a population roughly equal to Spain but at Christmas time in particular their respective climates are far from equal. Totalitarian dictators of the 1940s did their best to scratch Warsaw and its environs from the map, but it has mounted a sterling recovery since and is now a country boasting beautiful architecture, €2 pints and surprisingly good food (as long as you avoid Pierogi Ruski).
My week began in Wroclaw (pronounced Roslov) and it’s a genuinely beautiful city. There is something particularly ingratiating about the architecture of Wroclaw that lodges it in your soul. The buildings are a stunning assembly of architectural styles the diversity of which is matched by the gamut of colours that adorn them, made all the more alluring by liberally applied Christmas decorations. Indeed the Old Market Square in particular feels purpose built to host Christmas Markets although such a comment is likely driven by the amount of mulled wine I had on board when I initially noted these thoughts rather than legitimate architectural panache.
Irrespective of alcohol, Wroclaw’s is a thoroughly enjoyable city to explore. Each corner, each cobble-stoned laneway or central plaza is adorned by soaring church spires and enraptured by Bohemian and Prussian architecture. The city is bedecked with churches and cathedrals as much in worship of architecture as any given Deity. St. Elisabeth’s Church. St. Mary Magdalene Church. St. Vincent and St. James Church, they all have their place and meandering through the city often feels like being hit over the head with a Bible, but in the best possible way.
One in particular, Cathedral of St. John the Baptist in the ‘old town’ area of Ostrow Tumski is particularly striking and complete with a viewing platform. Apparently. On three separate occasions I paid it a visit, lured by its lofty tower and the promise of a panorama shot from the clouds. Three times I was assured by different people that it would be open but alas. It wasn’t so much closed but seemingly barricaded each time. I did not relent. A ‘viewing tower’ search on Gmaps next lead me to to the Church of the Garrisson in the city’s heart, also closed. In fact my ramblings through the streets of Wroclaw at one stage became a hell-bent scavenger hunt for a viewing tower purely fueled by the rejection of my initial two stops. It proved fruitless. My thirst for an aerial snapshot was ultimately quenched in Warsaw but more of that later.
The city has essentially three areas, one of which is a commercial hub of scant interest to a tourist. However the city centre and old town of Ostrow Tumski are both beautiful and were mercifully unscathed during WW2. Ostrow Tumski in particular is a delightful maze of antique Polish streets the oldest of which were constructed as far back as the 10th Century. One’s mind wanders just as one’s body. Why was this proliferation of churches not besieged when under the Soviet Union’s control? What wonders await down this lane or that path? Why are all the f***ing viewing towers closed?
My day 1 meanderings ultimately lead me to a large indoor market on the banks of the Odra river. Local markets are fascinating. They hide nothing. Locals haggle as locals do, meet friends and eat dinner with no heed paid to the slew of tourists that funnel through. My ordering of lunch involved little more than me pointing at the most prominently advertised food and then regretting said pointing for the ensuing 20 minutes. Pierogi Ruski is a staple of Poland. Potatoe Dumplings as I quickly learned. The kind but abrupt lady that served me initially popped three on my plate and I waited expectantly for them to be joined by red meat. They were not. Dumpling relentlessly followed dumpling, my plate ultimately boasting so many spuds I felt like I never left home. I could at least console myself that I was eating a genuine Polish meal, and with the knowledge that I would never order Pierogi Ruski again.
Those dumplings join my hostel in a very select group of things that I will not miss about this picturesque city. My miserable, decrepit hostel. The Iron Curtain was a very real thing. I have read about it, seen documentaries on it but why I felt it necessary to stay in a hostel still seemingly behind it I can’t understand. Suffice to say, Stalin’s 5 Year Plans clearly didn’t budget for the provision of insulation to hostel rooms in Wroclaw’s southern inner city (purely an administrative oversight I’m sure).
Next stop on my soujorn in Poland was Lodz, Poland’s third largest city and possibly its most abject. It was a bustling centre of industry during the socialist era and bizarrely, actually experienced a retreat in fortunes following the Iron Curtain’s collapse rather than its ascent. The entire city feels as backward and retrograde as such a trend would suggest.
Lodz’ s central entertainment district, the Manufaktura, is housed within a building which was formerly a cotton processing factory but I believe excitement levels remain unaltered despite the renovation. What’s more, the city’s most prominent tourist attraction, Piotrkowska Street, is proudly labeled as, at 5km, ‘one of the longest commercial streets in the world’. Paris can offer the Champs Elysees, while New York trumpets 5th Avenue but Piotrkowska Steet makes them both a fool in one very specific, arbitrary and entirely pointless trait.
Your time is likely too valuable to laden this piece with any more information about Lodz and it is absolutely too valuable to actually pay it a visit. I bought a pair of gloves in H&M there, and had a pizza that I’d give 7/10. Nothing, and I sincerely mean that, nothing else of note happened during my 24 hours on, and I can’t stress this enough, ‘one of Europe’s longest commercial streets’. I got a train, as early as was feasible, to Warsaw the day after my arrival and there my faith in Poland was restored.
