Once more unto the east

July - September 2018
A 43-day adventure by Tom Read more
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  • Day 20

    Warsaw

    August 15, 2018 in Poland ⋅ ⛅ 22 °C

    Eastern Europe is a hipster’s wet dream, endless post industrial ruins and neighbourhoods ripe for ironic gentrification and the perks of good bars, coffee and craft beer. The speed with which the invasion is happening is incredible, like a blitzkrieg proceeding the wave of tourists finally waking up to the wonders of the east. Where Minsk this invasion was still raw and tentative, Warsaw, being further west and with a much more secure beachhead of tourists, had tipped over into full blown gentrification. Praga, a neighbourhood across the river from the centre, and a no go area after dark only a few years ago, now boasts the coolest, newest and most expensive real estate, which is slowly destroying decaying neighbourhoods, street art and markets. Not all is lost though, a few amazing examples of street art remain, the Soho district (really!) is a fantastic example of reuse of an old industrial area for the purpose of museums and public event spaces and Bazaar Rozicki remains, increasingly hedged in by increasingly shiny apartments on all sides.

    Bazaar Rozicki, was once Warsaw’s premier market, the epicentre of Warsaw’s thriving black market during the days of communism, since 1989 its popularity has waned significantly and is now a shadow of its former self. Today the lure of illicit goods has gone, but one could still easily outfit an entire polyester wedding thanks to the variety of cheap wedding dresses, kiddie tuxes and chintzy mother-of-the-bride gowns. It is still a great place to visit though with the characterful faded green wooden store fronts providing an atmospheric reminder of a time when Warsaw was a Communist backwater.

    While not Poland’s premier tourist destination, Warsaw was a shock after Minsk. Where the entirety of Belarus gets 100,000 international tourists in an entire year, the same number must have been in Warsaw on my first afternoon. Endless tour groups from every corner of the world and selfie sticks jostling for space and airtime in the tight streets of Warsaw’s beautifully reconstructed old town. Warsaw was completely obliterated in World War 2, what wasn’t destroyed by being in the middle of the be and flow of the eastern front was destroyed during and after the Warsaw Uprising in 1944, when the local population rose up in open rebellion against the Nazi’s. The uprising lasted just over 2 months in the forlorn hope of achieving the backing of the western powers and reestablishing an independent state before the Soviets arrived in town. 45,000 underarmed Poles kept the Nazi’s pinned down in bitter street fighting, before capitulating having run out of ammunition, food and water and receiving only limited support from the Allies, despite multiple promises of support. In retribution the Nazi’s ordered the destruction of the entire city, systematically going block by block blowing up every building. By the time the Soviets ‘liberated’ the city 85% of all buildings had been completely destroyed, and from a prewar population of 1.2 million people, less than 1000 remained living in sewers and basements. As a final nail in the coffin, the Soviets quickly rounded up all members of the Polish liberation forces and sent them to Siberian Gulags to ensure that any hope of national independence would be quashed. Finding themselves once again being “prisoners of geography”, experiencing first hand the manifest unfairness of being born in a small country in the no mans land between the east and the west.

    Other than the incredibly good Uprising Museum and monuments, today you wouldn’t know this was the case. The Old Town has been beautifully and faithfully restored, incorporating a huge number of original decorative features, which had been salvaged and hidden by locals in basements and houses for decades post war and using original stone and brick salvaged from other towns and cities across the country.

    My second day in Warsaw happened to coincide with a national holiday, Soldiers Day, a day similar to ANZAC day, but taking on an added level of gravity when you consider the countries geography and history. The city came to a standstill and there were various commemorative events culminating in an appropriately impressive parade of goose stepping soldiers, tanks and aircraft. A lot of the countries I have travelled through are celebrating 100 years of independence this year, which I have found a little ironic seeing as most have only been truely independent for a fraction of that time, but Poland is no different and so the parade was supersized this year, moving streets to a larger thoroughfare and including a large contingent of American servicemen and military hardware underlining the importance of NATO forces in bolstering the eastern front against an expansionist Russia. With the parade and formalities over it appeared that the entire city descended on the old town as one for an afternoon of eating and drink. This made the previous days crowds appear like a mere small gathering. The place was packed and I wandered the streets struggling to find anywhere for lunch or a drink that didn’t have lines stretching a block. As I was giving up and heading out, I heard someone call my name, and it was Tim, an American I’d met back in Riga. Tim lives in Germany and works for NATO and was randomly in town as part of the American contingent for the parade, it was serendipitous and another example of our crazy small world. Even better they had a table and a jug of beer and so I had somewhere to sit back and watch the passing parade and incredibly talented buskers who took over the town in the evening.
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  • Day 21

    Warsaw

    August 16, 2018 in Poland ⋅ ⛅ 22 °C
  • Day 21

    Warsaw

    August 16, 2018 in Poland ⋅ ⛅ 22 °C
  • Day 24

    Krakow

    August 19, 2018 in Poland ⋅ ☀️ 27 °C

    I left with mixed feelings about Krakow. On one hand it is an undeniably beautiful city, but on the other, like so many beautiful cities further west it has been long discovered and thus overrun by hordes of tourists. This was only made worse by the fact that half of Poland was on holidays this week due to the Wednesday public holiday. If I thought the crowds in Warsaw were too much, Krakow was something else, which severely tested both my patience and reinforced my unabiding hatred hatred of organised tour groups.

    This hatred came back to bite me on my second day in Krakow as I tried to get to Auschwitz. Every second person in town was selling package tours to Auschwitz, offering the same generic overpriced package. I’ve never been a fan of tours, but especially for visiting somewhere like Auschwitz, which for me would be a deeply personal and confronting experience, being stuck with a large number of mindless drones and passionless tour guide sounded like my idea of personal hell. Instead I took the independent option and grabbed a 2 hour local bus from Krakow to Auschwitz, arriving with a sinking heart to find a huge car park full of coaches and tour groups being corralled. Things only got worse as I ventured further in and saw the line to get individual tickets. It was 10am and the line must have stretched over 500 metres and showed little sign of movement, as tour group after tour group wandered straight to the front and through the gates. A couple of enquiries later confirmed that the wait was close to 4 hours for individuals, but that if I was happy to sign up then and there for a guided tour with any one of the many touts I’d be able to skip the queue. Faced with the prospect of selling out on my principles and seeing the place I had come so far to see I chose instead to shoot myself in the foot and headed back to Krakow. To be honest, despite wasting my day, I’m happy with my choice. I’ve been to concentration camps at various locations in Europe in the past and so I knew what to expect, and the prospect of going through that experience while being jostled by crowds and rushed by guides is not how I wish to pay my respects and reflect on one of the worlds darkest periods.

    It was a similar experience back in Kraków as I was frustrated in my attempts to get into various attractions, such as Schindler’s factory and the very impressive Krakow castle. Not that all was lost though, there was a Pierogi festival on for the length of my stay, so I ate my body weight in dumplings and once I got outside of old town and the crowds started thinning I discovered another fantastically vibrant city full of parks, life, street food and the very characterful Jewish district, which has remained largely untouched.
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  • Day 25

    Upper Tatras

    August 20, 2018 in Slovakia ⋅ ⛅ 15 °C

    I knew nothing about the Tatra mountains, a tiny, but impressive mountain range that straddles the border of Poland and Slovakia so it seemed like an opportune diversion to escape the maddening crowds, reconnect with nature and do some hiking. I heard about them in Krakow, where the mountains can be reached by heading south to the town of Zakopane, but I was warned that its proximity to Krakow and the Polish holidays meant that it would likely be packed. So instead I headed to the less popular Slovakian side and chose Poprad as my base.

    Poprad is a sleepy town nestled at the base of the Higher Tatras and mercifully free of western tourists. The vast majority of visitors to the town appeared to be Slovak families heading to the towns Aqua Park or in hiking gear getting ready to tackle the mountains. There was very little English information online regarding hikes in the area and I was completely clueless when I arrived, so headed to the towns information centre where an enthusiastic young man gave me a couple of recommended day hikes, but strongly encouraged me to take a route from Vysoke Tatry, taking you from Mala Studena Dolina to Velka Studena Dolina, two big and beautiful glacial mountain valleys, via a narrow pass that connects the two (Priecne Sedlo, which I only found out later directly translates as ‘Vertical Pass’). He sold me a hiking map, marked the trail, mentioned something about chains and warned me to start early to ensure I got through the pass before the predicted rain came in the afternoon. Thus began another one of those terrifying and glorious adventures that can only happen through a combination of ignorance, lack of communication and overconfidence.

    If I had gone back to my hotel and googled Priecne Sedlo I would have discovered that this pass is considered the most technically difficult and dangerous stretch of trails in the Tatras, itself “an immensely dangerous mountain range ... where every year, 15 to 20 people die”. Oblivious to these facts, I got up early the next morning and caught the train to Stary Smokovec from where I took a furnicular to the trail head at 1100 metres. It was 8am as I started hiking and it was a perfect morning, bright and sunny, yet cool. Not long after I headed off I reached a view point from where I could see the opening of both valleys and my first real glimpse of the Tatras majesty and the challenge ahead of me. High Tatras have a tree line at about 1600 metres and much of the forest is still recovering from a massive storm that killed a third of it a few years ago, but it was still beautiful going as I walked through forest, next to streams, passing waterfalls, over small wooden bridges and through varied flora. When I stopped looking down at my feet as I struggled with the rocky terrain and gazed above the tree tops I could see the towering mountains, clean of vegetation and dressed in bare granite, it was overwhelming and daunting as it slowly dawned on me that I’d be scaling them to get from one valley to the next.

    As I ascended the valley the clouds started moving in, intermittently obstructing my view, but providing a very atmospheric backdrop. After about an hour I left the forest behind, the trail became progressively steeper until eventually I was clambering up large scree slopes. At one point I came upon my first “nosic”, a human porter carrying supplies to one of the two chalets on this particular route. These Chalet’s are one of the few in Slovakia where supplies are delivered only by humans and they are a sight to behold and incredible testament to human strength and endurance. As I read later, their load usually weighs between 60-80kg, but the record was a delivery to Chata pod Rismi (at 2250 metres the highest in the Tatras) of 116kg. At this point my load, which would have only weighed a few kg and already felt heavy, looked rather pathetic..

    After a final scramble up a series of switchbacks, which gave amazing views back down the valley when the clouds parted, I emerged at Teryho Chata, Terry’s cottage in English, a small mountain refuge located in a small saddle plateau at 2000 metres, with mountains on three sides and overlooking two small glacial lakes. It is a beautiful piece of landscape art in a way only alpine scenery can be. Since this is as far as most hikers go, it was dotted with tired people sitting and lying by the lakes, eating and drinking and catching their breath for the return journey. I stopped for a small break and to take some photos, but was conscious of the weather that was moving in and the need to get through the pass before it started raining, so quickly pushed on.

    As I continued to climb, the landscape got progressively rougher and more severe. The number of hikers also dwindled until I was the only one within eye shot until I’d come around a bend and see people off in the distance. At this stage I was still oblivious to what was to come and had lulled myself into a false sense of security as I clambered up small cliffs that had chains for handholds believing that this is what the information centre meant by ‘chains’. Within an hour though I had arrived at 2100 metres and was standing dumbfounded at the base of a near vertical 250 metre cliff looking up at the chain lines disappearing into the clouds. A small group of three people were also at the base when I arrived having a drink and catching their breath before the climb, so I figured I’d do the same and wait for them to start climbing and follow their lead.

    To say I was apprehensive would be an understatement, so it was lucky that at this stage I didn’t know that rescues are incredibly common on the pass as people get stuck or freak out, for which the Slovaks charge the princely sum of 10,000 euros a pop. I’ve never done much climbing and definitely have never attempted scaling such heights without a safety line, but with the simple choice of either turning back or pushing on, I chose the later and after some water and packing away my camera into my backpack I started climbing. The first section was comparatively mild with plenty of foot holds and a slope to lean into, but as I got higher sections opened themselves up that were invisible from the start, smooth granite surfaces, which either had had mental loops drilled into them or crevices to jam feet and hands into and vertical drops that screamed instant death. Having people in front of me was a godsend as I waited patiently at the base of each chain link watching and studying their route. After 30-40 minutes I mercifully reached the very narrow gap, which signalled I’d reached the top and from where I could see down both valleys. Unfortunately in my frazzled state I didn’t even think to get my camera out to take any photos and other than a couple of dodgy iPhone photos snapped in a hurry as I caught my breath on ledges I have no other evidence of the climb.

    My relief at reaching the top was short lived as I made way to the other side of the gap only to see that I’d be descending down another series of chains. Luckily the descent was less tricky and technically difficult than the ascent, but at least ascending I didn’t have to look down, which didn’t help my already shattered nerves. My nerves were not helped when I dislodged a stone the size of my head that narrowly missed a guy below me. I eventually got to the bottom though and was greeted with a further steep descent down incredibly loose small scree, which meant a good portion was done on my arse as I slid and slipped further down the mountain side.

    Not long after I started descending the rain started falling, which was frustrating, but also incredibly fortunate as it hadn’t started as I was climbing. I would not have wanted to climb the pass in any kind of wet conditions, the mere thought of which makes my blood chill. The trail was also very hard to follow at this point and after losing it multiple times I ended up traversing far to much of the mountain side, which at least was very impressive. Covered in huge granite boulders many looking like menhirs and covered in green moss that gives the landscape a pistachio colour.

    Eventually the landscape started evening out a bit and, to take a break from the rain and have some lunch, I stopped at Zbojnicka Chata where I had a big bowl of goulash, for sustenance, and a large beer, for nerves and pain relief. From there on, it was mostly downhill, but I still had almost 4 hours of trekking over the most ankle breaking, small and increasingly slippery and wet gravel and rocks. I was already struggling and my foot was complaining, but. Well. Unless I wanted a 10,000 euro helicopter ride there was only one way. Keep walking.

    Eventually I reached the trail head 10 hours and 20 km of gruelling trials later, exhausted and relieved, but with that calm warm feeling you get when you test your limits and overcome something bigger than yourself.
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  • Day 26

    Upper Tratas

    August 21, 2018 in Slovakia ⋅ ☀️ 18 °C
  • Day 27

    Upper tatras

    August 22, 2018 in Slovakia ⋅ ⛅ 18 °C
  • Day 27

    Upper tatras

    August 22, 2018 in Slovakia ⋅ ⛅ 17 °C
  • Day 27

    Upper tatras

    August 22, 2018 in Slovakia ⋅ ☀️ 17 °C
  • Day 28

    Kosice

    August 23, 2018 in Slovakia ⋅ ☀️ 29 °C

    I originally had plans to spend two days hiking in the Tatras, but the next day I was hobbling around like a geriatric and the one flight of stairs in my hotel were bringing me to tears as my foot and joints remonstrated me for pushing them to their breaking point. So. Cutting my losses I decided I might as well push on and decamped to Kosice.

    Kosice is the second largest city in Slovakia, but with only 250,000 people this isn’t saying much. It is, however, an undeniably beautiful city with one of the broadest pedestrianised boulevards I have ever seen running through the middle of it, complete with a cute little stream running down the centre of it leading to the largest cathedral in Slovakia, also the most eastern gothic cathedral in europe.

    I spent 3 days there in total not doing much, partly due to the lack of things to do and also taking the opportunity to relax and recharge and letting my aching body recover. I spent most of my time hanging out in the many very cool coffee shops on the main drag doing some planning for my remaining 2 weeks and connecting with the local cafe culture.

    The cafe culture in Eastern Europe is surprisingly strong, this is something that always surprises me, never fitting comfortably with my stereotypes. People sit out in cafes all day long, ensuring they are always packed. Starting with coffee in the morning and moving on to beer and wine in the afternoon, which is something I have always been only too happy to play along. After 2 days of doing little else, I felt like a new person, however, restless and ready to move on.
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