Bydgoszcz and Torun, just.

I'd been reading about this seemingly impossible to pronounce city in Poland for over a year and had managed to elevate my interest levels to near obsession before I'd even set foot on the plane to Bydgoszcz - a task which would soon prove to provide an unexpected challenge - so naturally I was quite excited to be finally on my way there.


I refuse to pay standard parking prices at airports- or anywhere if I can avoid it - so for many years now I've been a loyal customer of Justpark, a peer to peer online parking community where you rent a spot on a person's drive who lives close to an airport for a vastly cheaper price.  I have a relatively new contact for Stansted, a elderly chap called John.  Problem was - and I only realized this en route - was that every time I've used him it's been during daylight hours, his house is very hard to find down a narrow unmarked track and his postcode dumps you vaguely in the vicinity, not outside his house.  I drove to the postcode as indicated by Tom Tom and immediately realized I was in a world of trouble.  I didn't recognize a thing and just like the first time I came here I was stationary in a lane in the middle of nowhere with not even the first clue where I was. It was pitch black, no street lights or houses anywhere to try to get a bearing and no phone signal to call John to ask for help.  I drove around the frequently flooded anonymous country lanes hoping to see something I recognized but nothing and I was now convinced I would miss the flight; the flight was 0640 and at 0545 I was still fumbling around the bleak lanes five miles from the airport.  I was now faced with a binary choice:  a mad dash to the official long stay car park and pay drive up prices or give up and go home. Despite it being fifty-five minutes until departure I decided to give it a bash; however forlorn my chances appeared to be.


I got to the car park at 0605, shed a small tear at the £21 daily rate (it was £10.50 the last time I used it) and was grateful to be directed to one of the closest zones and waited for a transit bus to the terminal. It was 0615 when I got on the bus and was berating myself for even attempting to make the flight.  The bus driver was more optimistic, saying he'd known passengers to make it with fifteen minutes left. When we got to the terminal this is exactly what I had left prior to departure. With a 'good luck' from the driver I ran. I begged the lady on security to let me use the fast track which she kindly did, nothing on my person or in my bags activated any x ray alarms and from there it was a sprint to the distant gate 46 barging my way through crowds and knocking into several annoyed fellow passengers. I arrived, sweating and breathless and by some miracle, not only was the plane still there and the doors still open at 0635, they also let me on. I was genuinely flabbergasted I had made it.  I located my seat and collapsed into it, dizzy from exhaustion.

Upon arrival I passed the time during the long wait to clear passport control chatting to a Polish lady in her 60's who was nice and had a strange mannerism of half whispering as she spoke and laughing at the end of each sentence. I walked through the arrivals hall of Bydgoszcz's tiny airport to a line of waiting taxis. A friendly, stocky driver approached me, greeted me in English and beckoned me to take a seat in the front.  He was a very nice chatty man who told me he is a qualified engineer but couldn't find work in his chosen profession so took to cabbing to make ends meet.  His English was very good despite only having learnt what he knew from working in Glasgow for two years. We chatted about that, my reason for being in Poland and it was a genuinely pleasant short journey to the train station. I never caught his name but he very much reminded me of Hugh Rowland, the 'Polar Bear' from Ice Road Truckers. 

What do you think?

'Hugh' dropped me off at the main train station, Bydgoszcz Głowna. I guess now would be a good time to explain something. In spite of my enthusiasm for visiting Bydgoszcz stated previously I wasn't actually spending my first day here. When I told the Missus of my desire to go to Bydgoszcz she told me that the city has a more far illustrious, better known neighbour called Torun. In all my focussing on Bydgoszcz I failed to investigate the wider area and missed this little gem. I discovered that it's a world heritage site, a beautiful medieval city and held in very high regard by the Polish people. Curiosity and a desire to use my time here to its maximum potential led me to decide to split my time between these two cities. My curiosity for Bydgoszcz was still strong and I was very much looking forward to exploring here tomorrow, but for now it was a fifty five minute train ride to Torun, in first class of course. 

The journey to Torun was exceptionally comfortable: wide seats, lots of leg room and free WiFi. Polish trains have come a long way since my first experience in 1999 where a sixty kilometre journey took over two hours and I could see the track through a hole beneath my seat. 

Partly because my time here is limited and partly because I'm almost eight kilos over weight and massively out of shape I passed on the three kilometre walk with luggage and took a taxi from Torun Głowny and went to my hostel called Green Hostel in central Torun. I was too early to check into my room but the lady on reception allowed me to dump my bag and began my exploration of this fascinating and pretty city. I turned towards the Rynek (Old Square) and found my path completely blocked, firstly by a line of heavily armed riot police and behind them a very angry sounding protest. I wondered if it was to do with the unpopular Polish government, The Party for Law and Justice and if so maybe I should about foot and avoid the area; however it turned out to be a protest for female rights and celebrating 100 years of the Female Movement in Poland.

The Missus had lovingly prepared  'The Schedule' for me before I left, some in depth research of suggestions on the best places to see, it's very handy and ensures that Scatterbrain here doesn't miss out on a jewel in the crown somewhere - case in point, first time I went to Krakow I missed Wawel Castle...

The Schedule suggested for me the once a day English tour of the famous Gingerbread museum  as it's not allowed to just turn up, this being a must see attraction for Torun I didn't want to miss out so I booked a spot for 1500. This left me several hours to explore the city.

I ventured slowly down the central medieval street of the Old Town of Torun, Rozana and was immediately struck by how beautiful it was. Pedestrianized throughout with high classical townhouses of varying colours and pleasing architecture. I immediately knew it was a good choice in coming here.  

Torun is one of the oldest cities in Poland, having existed since the 8th century. Part of the legendary Hanseatic Trading League and was once a Royal City of Poland. It was one of a few Polish cities to completely escape damage during World War Two and thus the medieval centre is original. It was declared a World Heritage Site and then added to a list of The Seven Wonders Of Poland. It is famous too as the birthplace of the astronomer Nicolaus Copernicus. 

                                         Copernicus Statue.

Another thing that Torun is famous for, or should I say infamous, is the intense mutual hatred that exists between it and neighbouring Bydgoszcz. It is so intense that visitors are advised not to mention one city in the other. Torun prides itself on its UNESCO status, history, culture, science and for the aforementioned Copernicus, whereas Bydgoszcz points out it is bigger and more economically significant to the region. The history of the bitterness between the two cities goes back over six hundred years. Torun was made a Royal city and was part of the Hanseatic Trading League, Bydgoszcz was a border city set up primarily to defend the Polish state. Trade wars quickly erupted and ships on the Vistula River headed to Torun were either attacked or not permitted to pass. In retaliation Teutonic Knights from Torun attacked Bydgoszcz and caused significant damage.  Generally over the years Torun has been thought of as the prettier, more interesting of the two whereas Bydgoszcz developed a reputation as the more industrial workhorse of the region. Things however changed upon the advent of communism after the end of World War Two. The Soviets preferred to prioritize the workforce or proletariat and manufacturing over art, culture and heritage and immediately favoured Bydgoszcz over Torun for investment as its reputation and status as a workers' city was more keeping with Soviet ideology. Suddenly Torun was not top dog anymore and Bydgoszcz seized this chance immediately. Major government offices were switched to Bydgoszcz, university campuses, cultural institutions and significantly and painfully, the local radio station. Many Torunians (not sure if this term exists, it does now) still cannot forgive their neighbour for this! 

I just wandered slowly, taking in the sights along to the old town or Stare Miasto to the beautiful market Square, the Rynek Staromiejski.

 Right in the centre is the imposing Town Hall, one of the most impressive Gothic buildings anywhere in Europe.

I had been given a photo mission by the Missus- to find and photograph the Filus Monument, no other information other than that. When I found it, conveniently located just behind the main square, I found it was a cute dog with an umbrella who was the subject of a long running cartoon of over fifty years and the loyal sidekick of Professor Filutek, the work of the legendary cartoonist Zbigniew Lengren.

I have a terrible fear of heights as some people know- if I had a fiver for every building I've paid to climb up over the years and had to turn back half way I wouldn't have the debt I have now- but I was determined to climb up this one as I knew the views at the top would be stunning. I paid my 13zl and nervously headed to the wooden stairs winding their way to the top.  Despite trembling knees I did make it to the top somehow, and went outside to take in the view I had earned - sure it didn't disappoint. 

Once back on Terra Firma and feeling quite hungry there was only one option for me for lunch- one of my favourite Polish institutions: Bar Mleczny or Milk Bar. It's a cheap cafeteria that became very popular during communist times for providing a cheap homely meal for the proletariat in nearby factories. They have gladly survived the end of communism and have become a niche in their own right and part of Polish tradition. I love them for the struggles they invariably cause me. Most do not cater for tourists still- and rightly so- and have menus written only in Polish with a bewildering choice of options and a lady behind the till who speaks only Polish, the food sold by weight, not portion and cooked by her mother just behind in the kitchen. I am often left trying to guess what to have or spotting something another customer has ordered and adopting the 'I'll have what he's having' method. But the food is always fabulous, freshly cooked on site and good simple homely fare. I love Milk Bars and always will.

With belly full I walked on to the water front, it was bitterly cold and grey so I didn't linger long. I bought a waffle from a street vendor, the server smothered the thing in icing sugar which blew all over me once I had stepped away into a headwind, and I must have looked like I had a serious recreational drug habit. The waterfront was pretty and I was looking forward to seeing it in all its glory at night time when it's fully illuminated. But for now I went in search of the 'Leaning Tower of Torun', one of the city’s most famous land marks. It's just a short walk through one of the medieval gates from the water front and it really strikes you by how much it actually does lean.

With time fast approaching 1500, the meeting time for the beginning of the Gingerbread Museum Tour, I headed there which was just around the corner from the leaning tower.  The small waiting room was immensely packed already and I had to fight through crowds to get to the ticket office, which was staffed by a flour covered baker who was also the Gingerbread Master Baker too.  We waited a fair while before being guided up to the first floor and beginning of the tour. The aroma of freshly baking gingerbread just hits you as you enter the room in the most pleasant way.

Local law states that only members of the Bakers Guild are allowed to make gingerbread in the city of Torun, therefore the first thing we all had to do was swear allegiance to become members of the guild, this was basically promising to not reveal the secrets to outsiders. This is conducted under the watchful supervision of the Master Baker. We were also introduced to the Ginger Bread Witch who knows everything about spices and is generally quite cheeky and cheerful; she also claims to be more knowledgeable than Copernicus himself.  Members of the newly appointed guild then take part in making fresh gingerbread dough from the ingredients on the table with one volunteer doing one step with colourful information and commentary provided by the Baker and Witch throughout. The witch explained that the dough we had just made wasn't actually for us which left a few people quite puzzled. She then explained that the dough needs to be stored for at least three months before it is baked; we would be using dough prepared three months ago by another group and ours would be stored for a future group. The Master Baker told us that the dough never goes off and the oldest dough ever used to make gingerbread was an incredible sixty three years old. We then divided into smaller groups for the part I was most looking forward to; making my own gingerbread. We were guided to one of three smaller tables with rolling pins, oil and cutters and invited to take a piece of dough and make whatever we wanted. I took a press of what I assumed was the city crest of Torun and made a piece before placing it on the baking tray to cook in a wood oven.

It was brilliant fun and I loved every minute of it. To fill the time waiting for our creations to bake we went to the next floor for a brief talk on the ovens and dough making machinery before going back to our tables and claiming our own gingerbread, fresh from the oven.  I can honestly say I don't think I've had such fun in any museum anywhere, the staff were brilliant, everyone was involved and it's a genuinely joyous experience. One of the best museums I've ever been anywhere. I once went to a museum in Bucharest- The Museum Of The Romanian Peasant- intriguingly praised by Lonely Planet as "a museum so good you might want to hug it". That particular museum was absolutely rubbish, this one however I could have hugged, several times. 

I left to return to my hostel for a rest, very happy with the experience and some very happy memories, not to mention a bag crammed full with gingerbread and one or two concerns floating around my mind on how the hell I was going to get it all home in one piece.

In the fading light the streetlights came on and gave the city a fabulous orange glow and made it look even more beautiful than it did by day. I wandered around the Rynek before heading back to the hostel.

At half past seven, after a rest, I ventured back out to the old town for dinner; a well placed advert had made my decision for me- a Polish Dumplings restaurant and another one of my favourite things about Poland, pierogi! I headed to Pierogarnia and had a lovely meal of dumplings, pastry filled with any filling you can think of. I chose wild meat with a bacon and onion side, and it was delicious. 

I made the mistake of pigging out on the bread and dips as I was so hungry and made the second mistake of ordering five, not three. Halfway through the second one I was beginning to struggle. The waitress took pity on me and suggested a takeaway box for the two remaining dumplings thus saving me the embarrassment of leaving two out five, a situation I suspect she had seen many times before. I didn't really want to take them away but took them anyway. I made the further mistake of ordering desert before returning to my hostel to leave my bag for the final and I was hoping one of the most impressive sights of Torun, the illuminated view of the Old Town from across the river at night. On the way back I spotted a homeless old lady rummaging through a rubbish bin so I gave her the pierogi, she was very grateful and I was glad to have helped and that they hadn't gone to waste.

The Missus and her Schedule informed me that there is a dedicated viewing platform called Vistula Panorama for the famous waterfront view of Torun but at over three kilometres walk from the hostel I decided to get a taxi and walk back. The taxi dumped me in quite a dark dingy part of town, a less than salubrious dark wooded area with a number of shady looking characters hanging around drinking beer from cans. Fortunately it's also a very popular tourist spot at night for the incredible view over the river Vistula of the illuminated Old Town. Unfortunately an extremely bright light which was illuminating a city gate on the other bank provided some unwanted light pollution and prevented any real quality photos from being taken, it really was a shame I did take some photos and took in the stunning panorama before heading back. 

I have this weird thing I like to do when I visit places I like, on my last day anywhere I like to create a late lasting memory, to say goodbye to wherever I am. So to do this I decided to walk the three kilometres back to the hostel through the Old Town. It was cold and a very light rain was falling, but it wasn't an uncomfortable cold, the kind of soft cold you can feel softly on your face, not the painful biting cold a piercing wind can bring. The light rain was actually quite refreshing. I just had to clear the dodgy wooded area before joining the main road and the walk over the five hundred metre long road bridge over the river back to the Old Town.  From dusk until midnight there was supposed to be an impressive automated light and music show at the Cosmopolis fountain which I had been looking forward to and this was just at the end of the bridge, so I went to the small park in which it was located, however despite waiting for some time it didn't happen which was a shame. All that was left for me was the slowest of meandering walks back through the Old Town, taking in the sights of this beautiful city once last time, it really is at its best at night time. It had a thoroughly pleasant relaxed feel about it with people going about enjoying their evenings with no hint of trouble whatsoever; this reminded me once again why I like Poland so much.

I returned to the hostel thoroughly exhausted but very happy at such a satisfying day, had a shower and crashed into bed.