Gdansk again.

Better late than never, a concluding post about my recent trip to Gdansk.
As my first post showed I loved the place almost immediately, I don’t want to wax lyrical too much but a city has not made that good an impression on me since I first l saw the likes of Krakow, Prague and Vilnius. The fact I arrived to a lovely sunny day which made the colours of the Old Town even more vivid helped. The other major factor was the hostel I chose to stay at. Polish hostels tend to have elaborate names to attract your attention, on previous trips to Poland I’ve stayed at hostels called “Dizzy Daisy” and the “Strawberry Hostel”, this time I stayed at the Happy Seven Hostel right by the Gdansk waterfront. It was literally brand new and I was informed that I was the very first guest to stay there. The owners were great, full of enthusiasm, obviously very proud of their new hostel and importantly of their city. I never asked how they arrived at the name Happy Seven, it wasn’t situated at no7 and could hold more than seven people, but I liked it and it worked.
I planned to go the Hel peninsula on my second day but confusion reigned over the ferry connection. I was told that a ferry left from Gdynia, one of the three cities that make up the Trojmiasto or Tri City of Sopot, Gdynia and Gdansk. However walking to the end of the pier in Gydnia, I was told that there was only one a day and I had missed it, so with no other option I retraced my steps along the railway line to Sopot. This is a town I am familiar with by name only as it twinned with Southend on Sea near where I live.
It was a nice town, not spectacular with a nice wooden pier, the longest pier in the world built completely from wood and the reason I assumed why it is twinned with Southend. Apart from the relaxed seaside feel and ambience there’s not a great deal there but I enjoyed my time and made my way back to Gdansk after a few hours.One odd sight is a hotel and shopping centre in the centre which looks like one of those photos that has been manipulated, it's hard to explain so I'll post a photo. It's a really original idea and very distictive.
With more time on my hands than I had planned and the heavens threatening to open I decided to bring forward my plan to visit the Gdansk shipyards. The historically significant place which is widely thought as bringing about the first chink in the armour of communism, when under pressure from the Lech Walesa led Solidarity movement the hard-line Polish Communist government allowed and recognised the first trade union in the former Eastern Bloc. The movement didn’t last and was eventually outlawed but it had the effect of making the people aware of what could be achieved.
Quite a few shipyards workers died in the protests and outside the gates stands a massive monument to the fallen. As someone who is deeply interested in the Cold War it was very interesting to be in the spot where it could be argued was the beginning of the collapse of the Cold War era.
I asked an American couple who were there if they would take a photo of me and we struck up a conversation, they were a really nice couple and we stood there chatting for quite a while. They also showed me the location of the Solidarity museum that I was having a really hard time finding. It was actually underground with a barely advertised entrance so it was no surprise that I couldn’t find it. Dave, the American even gave me his ticket which the museum had failed to stamp or cancel so I even got in free, that saved me 20zl! It was a good museum, just the right size for a museum which was essentially dedicated to one thing. Quite often with these small museums they try to bulk it out with tediously linked stuff but this wasn’t the case here and it was very interesting, quite sad at times too. One of the last exhibits was a row of red ‘dominoes’ attached to the floor; each one had the name of the countries of the former Eastern Bloc. I assumed you were invited to knock them down to symbolise the falling of the Eastern Bloc and the collapse of Communism in the East; so I did and got a right telling off from a security guard who I hadn’t seen. Easy mistake to make...
On my last full day I went to Malbork Castle, a massive medieval fortress built by the Teutonic’s and the largest brick built Gothic castle in the World. I really wanted to take boat out to Westerplatte which is the spot where the first shots of World War II were fired by the Germans, but unfortunately there were not enough people to run the trip and it didn’t sail, it was my only chance to do it too so I was disappointed. Whilst waiting at the station in Gdansk I heard someone call my name, it was the American guy from yesterday. We got talking again and we went to the castle together, I had planned to go alone obviously but they were such nice people I didn’t mind going together.
The weather curtailed some my plans for the day, the warm sunny days I’d enjoyed previously had gone and the skies were ominously grey and menacing, it was also quite cold. I’d planned to walk around the castle grounds but this wasn’t possible as pretty soon after we’d left the main castle, and probably spending a bit longer than necessary, the rain came and it was torrential. Walking around was impossible so I decided to say goodbye to the Americans and head back to Gdansk. I knew of a station nearer the castle than the main station in Malborg I’d got off at, Malborg Kaldowo. It was within walking distance so I went there. It soon became apparent that it was a minor station, no ticket office and nowhere to sit. The bigger problem was that being such small station most trains didn’t stop there and also I had no means of buying a ticket. I had over an hour to wait for the next train too. I stood on the platform and watched the 1718 train I was expecting to get on sail right through.
My thoughts turned to how the hell was I going to explain to the ticket inspector that I had no ticket? He was unlikely to speak English. I had the good idea of texting Agnes, who speaks Polish, and she sent me an explanation to show the inspector when he asked for my ticket. It worked a treat and I got my ticket with no problems. Think he was quite surprised when he asked for my ticket to be given a mobile phone to read.
I had a nice evening at the hostel, watching the Europa League final with the usual international mix of guests you get at places like that, in the lounge there were French, Germans, Spaniards, Canadians, Americans and Dutch, so it made for a nice atmosphere.
Gdansk is definitely a place I intend to go back to, it really is a gem of Eastern Europe and deserves a higher reputation that it has. Krakow will always be the jewel in Poland’s crown but it isn’t too far behind. It’s nicer than Wroclaw and Warsaw and it’s nice to see it thriving after the tragic past it has suffered, I hope it isn’t too long before I return.

Gdansk, first day

I had a nice but quiet first day here in Gdansk, didn't do a great deal, I just explored the centre and Old Town on foot and enjoyed the atmosphere and nice feel of the city. It's an immediately likable place, that is to say I liked it immediately! The old town buildings, despite having been painstakingly reconstructed after World War II destruction, are very pretty and give no indication that they are in fact reconstructions. You could easily believe they had been there for centuries, just like the originals.
The Old Town is dominated by Dluga street, otherwise known as Long Market which opens out into Dlui Targ, a beautiful square and the focal point of the Old Town. I stopped here for lunch in an Egyptian chain restaurant and had an average lunch of fried pork meal pieces. The bill came to 44 zl, I gave the waiter 50zl and sat patiently for my change, it never came, the thieving sod kept it although to be fair I have no idea what the Polish custom towards tipping is.
I'd read about something in my guide book that sounded interesting, The Cemetary For Non Existent Cemetaries. Gdansk has had such a tragic history, being overrun countless times and thousands of people killed. During their past the city has been levelled several times and with it the cemetaries destroyed and built over. So the idea to build a cemetary without bodies but to remember those who had died and had had their final resting place obliterated seemed a nice poignant idea. So off I trotted in search of it. I walked about a km past it but I eventually found it. It was a small unassuming garden with some memorial monuments inside. A nice idea I thought.
For dinner I went to Mestwin restaurant, a traditional Kashubian peasant restaurant. Food was OK although I had no idea what the meat in my supposed meatballs were.
Well that was my first day, if the weather hold tomorrow should be good.

Gdansk

I'm off to Gdansk in the morning, should take my mind off recent events. I've wanted to go there for a long time and with all the historial links in the city, Solidarity and the Second World War sites etc, it should be an interesting few days. I'll try to put some new posts on here every now and then should anything interesting happen.

The Adventurists Tea Party

I made a relatively last minute decision to go the Adventurists Tea Party in Notting Hill London on Saturday. The adventurists are a travel company that arrange off the wall travel, as the name suggests. A lot of people there were heading out on the Mongol rally, where you have to drive an old banger from London to Mongolia. I would love to do that one day. The afternoon included unlimited free afternoon tea, cakes and gin and tonic. Also being handed out like sweets was a new to the UK beer from Namibia which was being promoted called Windhoek.
The main point of the show was a talk by the renowned travel writer Nick Danziger. Unfortunately like many others he was stranded in Israel due to the volcanic ash crisis so Peter Moore stepped in for his Long Way Home talk which went down very well, I’ve heard it several times before but it’s always enjoyable to hear. I’d love to do a talk like that one day but I don’t think I’ve done a trip on such a grand enough scale to warrant it. Would love to try though, even though the initial thought of standing up in front of a hundred people scares the life out of me!
In order to limit the amount of free Windhoek beer the owners hit on an idea of putting raffle tickets of all of the seats with the intended idea of one ticket per beer. It failed miserably of course as the theatre wasn’t full and people were helping themselves, including me to all unclaimed tickets. Think I grabbed about six. The beer wasn’t spectacular, not good enough to catch on here in a commercial sense but it was cold free and plentiful and I took full advantage.
After a fair few beers I noticed a charity stall were giving away freebies, or at least what I thought were freebies. With my better judgement slightly impaired I walked over and noticed a bright orange t shirt. My thinking at the time was Agnes is Dutch, Dutch national colour is orange, she’ll love it! I also grabbed a yellow one for me too. They were from the Children’s and young People’s Protection and Development, and for some reason had a Mongolian flag on the back. I then found out they weren’t free and a donation was expected. I couldn’t exactly give coins and being committed I handed over a fiver. When I got back to my seat and inspected my unintended purchase I discovered the orange t-shirt was XXXL size. Think I could safely say my life would be over if I gave that a present! SO it’s nestled in a cupboard and will probably never see the light of day again.
The rest of the evening was spent in the lovely Earl of Lonsdale pub next to the theatre, with me the only Brit, surrounded by a very friendly bunch of Ozzies and Kiwis. Most of the jokes and in talking went over my head but I enjoyed every minute of the evening. It was one of the nicest pubs I’ve been to and one of the oddest. It had doorways so low I had to stoop right over to get through them and not one brand of beer I had ever heard of. Alpine Lager, Sovereign Bitter, Cider Reserve, Samuel Old Reserve and Samuel Smith Old Stout. They were all really nice beers and unbelievably cheap, especially for West London. You don’t get three pints for under a tenner around my way anymore!

UK immigration 2

After my previous post complaining about those friendly boys on our borders you'd think the last thing I'd be doing is travelling abroad again, but that's what I'm doing. And seeing as this is a) last minute, b) at night and c) to Amsterdam I'm expecting more unwanted attention when I come back. Wish me luck when they reach for the rubber gloves...

UK Immigration

A message to UK immigration, not they're likely to read this of course but it'll make me feel better.
Being what your system classifies as a "frequent traveller" does not make me a criminal so I shouldn't be made to feel like one every time I have to pass through one of your miserable ports of entry.
OK, so I have made more than my usual amount of trips in the past six weeks ( Amsterdam, Brugge, Lithuania and The Hague) but all were pre booked with a credit card and not by cash at the last minute using a dodgy motor in the dead of night.
The bastards locked me and my car, not to mention my friend Ian in a search room at Dover for over 40 minutes, asked why I'd been to Lithuania at Stansted and interrogated me at Harwich this morning because I'd been " flagged as a frequent traveller".
I can travel anywhere in Europe stress free but it's only when returning to this miserable country do I wish sometimes I'd never bothered leaving in the first place, thanks to those miserable humourless robots that man our borders.
Bring in the Schengen here!!

Leaving The Netherlands

After saying goodbye to Agnes after our weekend in the Hague together, I found myself with an unwanted and annoying 3 hour wait for my night boat back to the UK. Little did I know I was in for an interesting evening.
After standing still in Rotterdam Centraal for about half an hour trying to decide if I should go early to Hoek van Holland or try to explore the area around the station, I finally decided on the latter. With my overly heavy bag I just wandered the streets around the station trying to find a welcoming pub in which to nurse a beer; a task that was to prove impossible. I also realised what an ugly unwelcoming city Rotterdam actually is. The post war planners I realise had a big job to do but they could not have constructed such an ugly city if they tried. It reminds me of Frankfurt in the sense of the huge skyscrapers everywhere and the pedestrianised centre looks like it's been modelled on Basildon.
After giving up on the pub search, a well timed text message from Agnes told me about a pub in Hoek van Holland near the check in building so I decided to end my time in Rotterdam and head for the Hoek.
On the walk to the station I got that feeling that I was being followed. A feeling confirmed when two Asian men walked too closely to me and began asking the usual questions. Well to cut the story short and not wishing to over dramatise the situation, I followed my instincts and made an abrupt turn into a bureaux de change office where a security guard invited me to wait for a while until they had gone. Problem was he wouldn't let me leave for half an hour as he thought they were still hanging around. I did leave eventually and got to the Hoek and the lovely little 'Torpedoloods' pub where I nursed a beer, read my book and kept thinking I wished I'd headed to the Hoek earlier and avoided all the stress of Rotterdam.
I left the pub and began the short walk to the Stena building when an English car came to a halt in front of me as I was crossing the street, blocking my path. The window came down and the woman driving beckoned me over over, I was surprised to hear a thick Irish accent. " Excuse me Sir?" I was expected to be asked directions but I wasn't. " Would you like a job Sir?" Not the kind of question you expect to be asked by someone in a car in the middle of the night. Taken aback I just said "what kind of job?" At this point the man in the passenger seat leaned over and said in an even thicker accent, " Would you like to stay in Holland and work for me laying Block paving?"
How do you respond to that? I just politely said no and walked on, but when I saw them driving down the car check in lane for the ferry I was booked on, I just thought that wouldn't be the last time I would see them, and it wouldn't be.
On the boat my key card for my cabin wouldn't work so I had to get help from the crew. When he returned the Irish people, now with two kids that I hadn't noticed before were there, immediately opposite my cabin and were experiencing the same issues with the door. I offered to help but luckily they managed to get in before I got too involved.
It was a quiet crossing, hardly any passengers and the bar where I had camped myself with a beer and a book was quiet, until predictably the Irish contingent noisily barged in.
They sat near me and seemed intent on a conversation which was impossible to resist, I was happy with my book, beer and football highlights on the TV. His opening gambit was the same job offer I had received outside, so it was obvious they were all part of the same group.
They asked where I lived and I gave an answer that was as vague as I was comfortable to give without giving them the appearance I didn't want them knowing where I came from. After a while I had realised that they were what the politically correct term would be 'travellers'. They seemed determined to buy me a drink but I refused, I wasn't about to get in a drinking contest with Irish travellers, especially as they were quite advanced in the alcohol stakes already.
One of them, after he'd established roughly where I lived, asked what my job was. I told him I was a nursing assistant and made the mistake of saying I worked in a psychiatric hospital. He then asked me a question that made my blood run cold. A few years ago we had a particularly nasty patient who was part of the traveler community which were particularly hostile to the authorities for keeping him detained. One of the men asked me if I knew a certain person who I won't name. I tried to hide the shock in my expression but failed miserably and had to admit I did. This man was the ex patent's cousin.
I just rattled off a few lines about how I treat people how I find them, that he never caused me any trouble and they seemed to accept this but I was worried what might come of it.
I managed to break away and return to the TV but they were becoming louder and louder the drunker they became and their thick, almost impenetrable accents dominated the air. Now I must say I love a lot of Irish accents but the accent the travellers seem to have was just plain ugly. County Cork is a lovely accent as is County Clare and County Galway, but what I was hearing now was just horrible and irritating.
They seemed determined to prise as much alcohol as possible but were told the bar was closed, probably and wisely a little earlier than usual. They had now taken over the smoking room in the bar and were loudly singing Gaelic songs which everyone could hear and was clearly annoying the bar staff. I was actually quite enjoying it, I love Gaelic music and it made a change from the loud conversation. I have noticed as well with the Irish, it doesn't matter how drunk they are, they always seem to hold a note perfectly when singing ! From nowhere one the Irish men came over and thrust a €100 note in my hand, and from what I could understand he had tasked me with the mission of getting more booze from the bar. Not wishing to get on the wrong side of pissed Irish travellers I reluctantly agreed to try. I then thought how stupid was that? What was stopping them from claiming he'd given me €200? Well the bar staff refused the drink request which meant I had to enter the smoking den to return the money. I managed this but they insisted I sat down. I refused the offer of a beer but I knew I would have to stay for a while listening to drunken Gaelic songs.
I made my excuses and left after about twenty minutes and that was the end of my little Irish adventure, and I can't exactly say a pleasant one.