A Hot Day in Krakow

Day 2 - July 15th

I awoke from the previous night’s festivities with a rather fuzzy head that I put down to the atmospheric weather conditions. Or maybe it was the beer. Either way, I needed to be up and at it, because we were going to the historic city of Krakow today. I was keen to be going because although I’d visited the city a few years ago, today I was travelling by train, and there’s nothing like continental train travel to make you feel like a real traveller. Foreign trains hark back to the age of Brief Encounter, an age when you could stand in a corridor and lean out open windows feeling the wind rush past your face; when trains had restaurant cars and conveyed sleeping cars travelling unimaginable distances across entire countries. Coaches had compartments and each compartment always had a dinky mirror attached to the wall, and sometimes a colour print in a frame – in case the scenery got boring? Our train from Jaworzno to Krakow was a Polish Inter-City service, and we clambered aboard after obligatory photographs and secured our own private compartment.

All aboard!

Not that we really needed it; most of the trip was spent hanging out of the corridor window, just watching the world go by. It was hot – over 35°C – and even at top speed of around 90 mph, it was still comfortable to lean outside the coach, although a sign above the window politely explained that it may not be in your best interests to do so. The sign was in six languages, as these trains travel far and wide – as far afield as Belarus, Ukraine and Russia in the east, and Germany, Slovakia and Czech Republic to the west and south. Our one-hour trip was a little more modest, but still a great experience nonetheless.

Watching the world pass by on our way to Krakow

Once we arrived at Krakow, my hosts had decided to visit Krakow Zoo, not something that I was overly enthusiastic about as I’m not a great fan of zoos. They remind me of prison visiting days (not that I’ve ever had the pleasure, or even Her Majesty's pleasure, I hasten to add), but simply that the idea of incarcerating animals, especially large, agile animals, behind bars in a concrete pen doesn’t seem very fair. The only animals that should be locked up in cages and gawped at are teenagers and politicians. I can watch David Attenborough nature shows on TV until the cows come home, so to speak, because they’re filmed in their natural habitat, living their normal lives – well, until something bigger comes along and eats them – but looking at these clearly bored beasts pacing up and down their cages in a climate far removed from their natural homes doesn’t sit well with me. It would be the equivalent of incarcerating humans in a strange and hostile environment, while strange animals lined up to watch them looking back – a bit like a visiting McDonalds in Romford.

Still, that was the itinerary, so we emerged from the railway station into the huge city square of Krakow. A brand new glass and chrome shopping centre called Galeria Krakowska, still under construction, dominates one side, and whilst impressive in a size-is-everything kind of way, it just doesn’t sit too well with the surrounding architecture which is full of character as the pictures show only too clearly.

Galeria Krakowska to the left and Antyki Galeria Obrazow to the right - which do you like best?

Not that architecture was on my mind as I crossed the square; the place was full of stunningly beautiful Polish girls, all lithe, tanned, toned and dressed in skimpy summer outfits that showed off all their best features. I have visited various Eastern Bloc countries and found beautiful girls in all of them, but I can crown Poland as the capital of girl-world, and Krakow is the undoubted jewel in that crown.
There was no grunge, no muffin tops or size 28 bodies squeezed into a size 12 dress that looks like a duvet stuffed into a bin-bag that is part and parcel of everyday life back home. And lest you think that this is outrageously sexist, I can assure you that Polish girls take great pride in their appearance, and when you meet them for the first time, will ask two questions – ‘How do you like Poland?’ followed quickly by ‘And what do you think about Polish women?’ It is a very refreshing attitude, and I can only put their appearance down to a healthy lifestyle of fresh, homemade food, plenty of exercise – they walk more than they drive – and of course they don’t all go out and get smashed on 18 pints of lager and Red Bull followed by a kebab on a Friday night. Over the last few years I’ve had the pleasure of working with a large number of Polish people, and made some very good friendships amongst the community. So I reckon I’m qualified to make such statements.

A photo that sums up my visit - beautiful buildings, blue skies,
old trams and young women. What more could you possibly ask for?

I managed to get across the square without dribbling too much, and try out another new form of transport – the traditional street tram. This would take us to Cracowia on the city outskirts, where we would need to transfer to a bus for the trip out of town to the zoo itself. As a self-confessed transport aficionado, this mode of travelling was an added bonus. Alighting at Cracowia, the heat had been turned up a notch and sweat was just rolling off, aided by high and unpleasant humidity. The 20-minute wait for the bus was like a sauna, and there was just no air anywhere. Once it arrived, the bus was crowded and I managed to get a place just inside the doors, but squeezed up tightly against them.

This had the added attraction that everytime the bus stopped and the doors opened, I fell out – but the benefit was that I got a breath of air in doing so. The journey to the zoo was about 20 minutes, but felt much longer. We piled out, and went straight to the kiosk to buy cold bottles of juice to drink. That’s better!


As I’ve said, zoos don’t impress me much, so let me say here and now that Krakow Zoo is the best example of its genre I’ve ever seen. Really, it’s more of a huge area of wooded parkland that happens to have a zoo within it. Everywhere is spacious, well designed and laid out, and considerable thought has gone into designing large enclosures that aim to recreate natural habitat. Fair enough, it’s still a prison, but whereas most zoos resemble Guantanamo Bay Rest Home for Misguided Terrorists, Krakow is the animal kingdom’s Travelodge (apart from the dump at Dartford, but that’s another story).

Unfortunately, the heat had the same effects on the animals as it had on humans, and many of them were hiding away in their living quarters, or lying listlessly in the shade provided by the surrounding trees. The selection of animals was impressive, and they all looked healthy and well cared for. The entire place was spotless and looked as though real passion goes into maintaining it; also the World Wildlife Fund is involved in schemes to protect endangered species. My favourite part of the day was feeding time for the three sea lions; there was a huge fully-grown male, a smaller female and a one-year-old pup. The keeper went into the enclosure, and threw them fish whilst fully interacting and playing with them; it was a great show and a real crowd pleaser, without demeaning the animals with any of that performing seal type nonsense.

A little further round from that was a place called mini-zoo, which was an enclosure consisting of animals that are commonly kept as pets in the UK – rabbits, guinea pigs, Shetland ponies plus goats, pigs and even black sheep! No cats, thank God. The rabbits and guinea pigs had their homes, but were free to wander around the whole complex, which of course delighted the children. Feeding goats, donkeys and sheep was permitted, and they were all jostling for (noisy) attention to get a bit. It was a nice feature to include in a zoo.

By mid-afternoon the temperature peaked at 36°C and we were just too flaked out to do much more. Time to return to town. This involved another, less crowded bus journey, followed by the return tram into the centre.

Riding a Krakow tram; the locals don't seem to mind tourists taking pictures!

We took a walk around the city centre viewing the main market square with the world famous cloth market (Sukiennice) followed by the castle and riverside, but quite honestly, it was just too hot too really enjoy it. Krakow is a lovely place to visit, packed full of interesting places to explore and see, but we really just went from one ice-cream vendor to the next, interspersed with bottles of juice. I would love to return once again, but I would prefer to visit out of season to really enjoy it. Here’s a snapshot of the walkabout:







Back to the station, where tickets were purchased, and then to the platform to get the train. But which platform? Polish stations list departing trains, but only give the final destination with no calling points. Individual platform monitors were helpfully blank, and station staff non-existent.
We waited on a random platform for a northbound train; when it pulled in, it was a very crowded all stations commuter service to Katowice – not ideal. My hosts decided to return to the ticket office and elicit some information from the sales staff. This was a long walk, followed by a long walk back, once the relevant information had been grudgingly supplied. The train was due in 20 minutes or so, but then an announcement on the tannoy system – oh, so you’ve woken up, then – said the train would be around half an hour late. Simultaneously, a long express train glided in a couple of platforms away. It was a sleeper train going all the way to the popular Baltic seaside resort of Kolobrzeg, but conveyed ordinary seated coaches as well.
More to the point, it was calling at Katowice (the coaches all have destination boards on the sides that list principal, but not all, intermediate stations). This meant it had to pass through Jaworzno, and might even stop! So, another long trudge across to the platform, and an interrogation with the train attendant who confirmed that it would, indeed, stop at Jaworzno. Excellent!

We boarded the train, which was due to depart at 19:14. At around 7:10, the original Jaworzno train rolled in adjacent to us and waited for passengers. I expected it to leave first, given how late it was running (40 minutes by now), but no, the authorities had a better idea. We would leave first, seeing as this train was travelling much further. Unfortunately, no one bothered to tell the driver, who was in the canteen, or McDonalds, or sat on the toilet reading the paper - basically anywhere but his cab. So, both trains sat in the station doing nothing. Some passengers began gambling, and dashed across the tracks to the second train, which now looked as if it would leave first. Then our driver turned up and powered up the locomotive; the signal went to green – and still we sat there. We now had to wait for the guard! Eventually, at 7:35, everyone who was working on the train managed to get themselves aboard and with a long whistle, we were finally off, leaving the passengers who’d gambled on the other train getting priority a little disappointed to say the least. My hosts were divided about how reliable Polish trains are, but the general opinion was that the railways are run in a fairly relaxed manner, and because the schedules aren’t particularly demanding, late trains can easily make up lost time if the driver is in a rush to get home.

Well, our driver thought that he was Stig in a reasonably priced sleeper train. We positively belted along on our exhilarating journey, and Jaworzno appeared all too soon.
During the trip, large storm clouds had gathered ominously over Jaworzno, and by the time we’d walked to the bus stop outside the station, we were caught in torrential rainstorm that later turned to a violent thunderstorm with impressive displays of lightning. The rain was so heavy that the nearby city of Katowice was badly flooded. Despite the storm, the heat and humidity didn’t dissipate, so we arrived at our restaurant for dinner in a rather hot and wet state. We were dining at Restaurant Olymp – a Greek Tavern, which isn’t what you immediately expect to find in Poland. The families of my hosts all met up here, so there was a good party atmosphere over an excellent Greek meal, which rounded the day off very well. Then back to the apartment for more drinks before hitting bed in the early hours – only a few hours sleep was permitted, because tomorrow we were off on a two-day journey into the Tatras Mountains...

Come Fly With Me

It’s holiday time, and as I’m due to depart from Stansted Airport on Tuesday, I have just been online to check-in for my flight to Krakow in Poland. Actually, I’m flying Ryanair, so I’m not sure how close to Krakow we’re going to land, but I’ve got guidebooks for Lithuania and Estonia to hand so it should be okay. The fare was a very reasonable £14, although Gordon’s ‘Green Tax’ bumped this up considerably; however, we need a ‘Green Tax’ so that Gordy and Cabinet Ministers can ride around London in 6 litre V12 Jaguars, whilst telling us to use our cars less and downsize to driving around on Flymos. Hey, as long as they’re not being hypocritical about it, then that’s fine by me.

I avoided as many of Ryanair’s scams – sorry, optional extras – as possible during the booking process, although I’m sure that I’ll pay, and pay dearly, for this later on. Firstly, check-in. Yes, they now charge for this if you have the temerity to check-in at the airport, even though the plane lives there. Checking in from home, or even McDonalds if you’ve got wi-fi, is free. Would you like fries with your ticket? I’ve just done this, and it seems to work well. So far. I’ve decided to take hand baggage only, basically because not only do they lose checked bags, they now charge you for the privilege of losing them. At first I thought this would mean cutting down a bit. Now that I’ve actually measured the sort of bag that they define as hand baggage, I’m down to one shirt, change of underwear, my guidebooks of Estonia and Lithuania plus a pack of condoms. Well, that’s the essentials catered for, plus something to aspire to.

Ryanair soon discovered that the Tommy Cooper look
was never going to be a commercial success.

I actually have a great hand-baggage-wheeled-mini-suitcase type of thing, which is perfect. Well, perfect for Easyjet, Wizz!, Aerosvit, British Airways and National Express. Not so perfect if you’re going Ryanair. The case itself is almost regulation size, but the wheels and handle give it a height of 60 cm, which is 5 cm higher than the limit. Most sensible people overlook this extra length, which is why they are employed by Easyjet, Wizz!, Aerosvit, British Airways and National Express – although not for much longer in the case of the latter. Ryanair, however, see things differently – and they’ve sent me 3 e-mails this week telling me that because I’m such a tight arse and only taking hand baggage, then they’ll be making damn sure it’s the right size – and if it’s as much a frog’s eyebrow too large, then it’ll be 30 Euros on the day plus a hard stare from the girl on the desk. Consequently, I’m now taking a smallish backpack with wheels – rather a contradiction in terms, but it’s just great – that will definitely fit, because I will make it fit. My clothes may suffer, and people in Krakow may well come up and ask for a copy Big Issue, but yes, it will fit.

"No, dear, he's not a tramp - he's just got off a Ryanair flight."

They also want me to purchase what they call ‘Priority Boarding.’ This means you may board the plane before anybody else, including the cabin crew, except for the 150 other people who also purchased Priority Boarding. It seems to me that irrespective of when you board the plane, there’s a reasonable chance that everybody will depart and arrive at around about the same time. So that is why I’m not shelling out £15. On a more prosaic note, I would rather be boarding the flight after most of the other passengers have boarded, so that I can see exactly where the shell-suited McMunchers are sitting - and avoid them. I’d be seriously annoyed to pay for Priority Boarding, and get the best seat on the plane (it’s on the black box if you’re wondering), only to get Vicky Pollard and family decamping next to me for a 3-hour flight. Yes, had it all before.

"Just find my mum and she'll pay the extra, mister, pleeeeeease!!!"

The airline never seems to be short of dreaming up new and ingenious ideas to squeeze passengers for cash in evermore imaginative ways. Based on the success of London Underground, they’ve now figured that you can get twice as many people aboard by making them stand up. This is true; it’s been on the news during the week. That’s really going to get your day off to a good start, isn’t it? Bad enough on the daily Peterborough to Kings Cross commute, but when you’re on holiday? And if you have to stand up, where, exactly, are you supposed to put all the crap, sorry, selection of gifts and merchandise, that they constantly try to sell during the flight – not to mention the overpriced cups of froth (cappuccino) plus cheese butties (ciabattas) that pass for in flight catering? I don’t fancy handling that lot while clinging to the ceiling mounted grab rail during bouts of turbulence …

They also don’t seem to have factored in that twice as many passengers on a 737 means twice as much weight (or four times if there’s a hen party from Romford aboard), plus twice as much baggage. Even allowing for Ryanair’s punitive idea of hand-baggage, there isn’t enough space in the overhead lockers for everybody’s bags, coats, laptops, jackets, duty-frees and children as things are now. So where will all this additional clobber go? Tied to the undercarriage? I’m no aviation expert, but I understand a thing or two about loading. Extra weight obviously means that the plane needs plenty of additional fuel, which is going to cost a lot more come filling up time. So who’s going to pay for that? Ryanair – or us? Answers on a postcard to Michael O’Leary, please.

"... oh, and George, don't forget to collect the nectar points."

On the flip side of this, however, twice as many passengers drinking cups of froth and eating cheese butties will double the uptake at the toilets – £1 for Trap 1; £2 for Trap 2 and a fiver if you had an Indian and a Guinness last night.

Come fly with me – but bring your wallet.