Poland at Christmas: A White Warsaw with a Red History

Arriving in Warsaw was to have my emotions assaulted unlike any other part of my week in Poland. No longer was the skyline the preserve of the rustic and endearing buildings of yesteryear. Rather, as I peered outside from the train station, towering skyscrapers crooned over the skyline like cranes above a construction site, dominating all around them. I was in a very different place, perhaps even a different century.

Even in this company, The Palace of Culture and Science stands out, known colloquially as ‘Stalin’s Penis’. Soaring into the sky at 237 metres it was constructed in 1955 and remains the tallest building in Poland.

Its construction was ordered by Josef Stalin and it doesn’t so much arrest your attention as find it guilty of an indeterminate crime before condemning it to the Gulag for the forseeable future.

Transfixed, and momentarily oblivious to the bitterly cold temperatures which had followed me from Lodz, I slowly ambled around the gargantuan structure summoning my near frostbit hands to take photos at regular intervals. Google Maps was at pains to point out that I was only 8 minutes from my hostel but it would be upwards of half an hour before I eventually trod through its doors, weary but expectant for what the city to offer.

To have a truly iconic centrepiece is something the marketing executive of modern cities cry out for. Antiquity often lends a hand, such as in the case of the Parthenon in Athens or the sublime Colosseum around which Rome pivots. Religious devotion is more often the genesis for constructions of the necessary scale, and is the reason that Barcelona now boasts possibly the most awe-inspiring church in all of Europe in the Sagrada Familia and Rio De Janeiro can lay claim to one of the 7 modern wonders of the world, Christ the Redeemer.

But sometimes it is a more sinister aspect of a city’s heritage whose signature, while not emblematic of the city’s current culture, is sufficiently endearing to reach far beyond its time. Madrid’s Valley of the Fallen, which housed the late Fascist Dictator Franco’s tomb until May 2019 is one such example, but Warsaw’s Palace of Culture and Science is possibly the most jarring of them all. Despite intense debate since 1989 given that the culture that birthed it and architecture that shaped it are anathema to modern day Warsaw, it has endured. In a part of the city now populated by glass encrusted skyscrapers where the streets teem with professionals with collars whiter than the snow, the sledgehammer architecture of the Palace is hardly consistent. However, as quickly becomes apparent, to try and present any one consistent image of a city as complex and intriguing as this would inevitably do a disservice to some peoples, era or history.

I did four walking tours in Warsaw, ‘The History of Warsaw’, ‘Warsaw and War’, ‘Judaism in Warsaw’ and ‘Communist Warsaw’. In doing so I had coffee in three ubiquitous coffee chains and had burgers in at least two prolific burger franchises (during my most perfidious moments of weakness). My point being, Warsaw feels very similar to most cities in Europe, but has taken a more circuitous route to get there.

The delightful old town is testament to this. Obliterated during the second world war it has been rebuilt brick by brick to resemble its austere grandeur. The rebuild was largely completed by the mid 1950s, architects making use of paintings that survived the Nazi onslaught to ensure it was as faithful as practicable to the original.  The delightful blend of colours is reminiscent of the Boca district of Buenos Aires, but with a distinctly Polish stamp.

It was during the Warsaw uprising of 1944 that the town was initially destroyed and the sublime museum to that event is expertly assembled and poignantly portrayed. The Uprising is unfortunately infamous not for the bravery of those that launched it but for the savagery of the Nazi response and resultant reprisals having quashed it. An estimated 200,000 civilians were killed in response and by 1947, Poland would find itself under Communist Rule and where it would remain until 1989.

During the Communist Warsaw walking tour, we stopped at building which happens to now function as the Irish embassy. In front of it is a sculpture, comprising of a thick black line running across the pavement which then rises up off the ground to arc towards the sky. It symbolizes censorship during Communism, when letters were sedulously censored before entering and leaving the country and those points thought unsuitable were thoroughly concealed by a thick black mark. As simple as an elongated Hitler moustache although Stalin would likely think his own more appropriate. The arc at the end symbolizes how Poland is now longer restricted by such constraints. Poland can now count herself among the free nations of the world and we are all better for it.

It was in also in Warsaw that my disdain for Polish food subsided. Thanks to Pork Knuckle. The Old Town is dotted with traditional Polish eateries and although scarred by my dalliance with such delights in Wroclaw, my suspicion that there was more to Polish cuisine than potatoes fried in pasta beckoned me through the door. The restaurant was a riot of fervour and revelry as beer was swilled at will, dumplings devoured in haste.  I took some decidedly languid strides as I was shown to my table, eagerly examining other patron’s plates. My excitement quickly subsided as I realised I had neither the requisite grasp of the Polish language nor a sufficient comprehension of Polish food to actually order those items that I deemed most appetizing. “Your one over there in the blue scarf, I’ll have what she’s having” would hardly be an endearing way of ordering but my waitress seemed to have an intrinsic understanding of my plight. She recommended Pork Knuckle, adorned with grilled onions, bread and horseradish sauce and it far surpassed my expectations.

As did Poland itself. Eastern Europe is a remarkable place, it boasts fascinating history and beautiful cities, is relatively cheap and its landmarks are not quite yet the tourist traps that their Western Europe equivalents have become. Few countries exemplify these traits as thoroughly as Poland and when they are married with a White Christmas, it becomes a very special place indeed.