Destination Poland: Thursday (evening)

FAQs about my brief stay in Krakow:

Did you cover in the blog all that you wanted to about your brief Krakow visit?
Of course not. For example, I did not even mention the place that most Poles would regard as the symbol of this old city: St. Mary’s Basilica. No, it’s not my lopsided photography. One tower is indeed shorter than the other. Legend has it that two brothers set out to build it (construction began in the 13th century) and one did a better job than the other. The altarpiece alone is worth a trip to Poland, even if you’re not particularly church-inclined in your ramblings. But what every Pole knows by heart is the trumpet melody played every hour on the hour from the taller of the towers. It is sharply cut off in mid-note. The origins of the ritual? In 1241, a trumpeter played this piece from the tower, warning Krakovians of the Tartar invasion. His throat was pierced by an arrow and the music stopped. We hear the melody daily at noon on the radio and hourly in Krakow (played by local firemen). Oh no, Poland isn’t tradition-bound, not at all, what makes you think that it is?

On the Main Square. So familiar. But it's the inside the leaves you speechless. 

What was your favorite meal in Krakow?
Last night’s trout that I ate very late, in a local place where hordes of students appeared to hang out (“Cherubino”) stands out. I am a great fan of Wisconsin’s Artesian Farms trout, but this one was every bit as good. I always hesitate before ordering trout in Poland because oftentimes you have to play with deboning it yourself. This one was wonderfully filleted. The baked apple was an added yummy bonus. [The meal that most westerners would like to pass over in Poland, on the other hand, is the traditional breakfast in any hotel. Who needs all those meats and salads in the morning? But I have to put in a general plug for my hotel – the Amadeus. It is a delightful little place, one of my all-around favorites.]

No fuss, no pretension, just fresh and honest cooking.  

What was the last thing that you did in Krakow?
The “last thing” hasn’t happened yet. I’m meeting a friend and colleague for coffee on the Main Square before I catch the morning train to Warsaw. But last night I took a walk up and down the Old Town and even at midnight it took my breath away. Oh, and they finally decided that the Square is ready to put on a Christmas twinkle. The lights were turned on, adding a special magic to the place.

A midnight walk through Krakow 

Destination Poland: Thursday

Ode to Rynias – Hej, gory, moje gory!

I can do this in a day, yes I can: an early bus takes me from Krakow to the Tatra mountains; I find someone to drive me to the village of Brzegi, right at the border with Slovakia. From there, I hike the hour or so to Rynias. They said the weather may be miserable: cloudy, windy, cold. So what! I want to get grounded again. I need a day in Rynias.

Looking out from the valley, you see the Tatry peaks... 

That is Rynias, in its entirety. 

Rynias. How do I describe it… It is the opposite of New York! How crowded is it? There are only three households. After that, the nearest neighbor is a one-hour hike away. There are no roads to it – only a rough dirt one, traversable in the summer, not in the winter.

The way things are moved from one place to another 

The path I follow 

The gate to my destination 

I could have spent the night there. Pani Anna and Pan Stas live there and they’ll always put me up. But I am getting too old and spoiled to enjoy winter nights without indoor plumbing.

I met them first exactly 35 years ago. I was a student in Warsaw. But I moved to the States a few years later and I didn’t go back to Rynias for many decades. Pani Anna and Pan Stas went from being in their 40s to passing 80. They lost their one son to a motorcycle accident. Pan Stas, as of today, has only one tooth left. He will not smile at the camera, but he’ll smile and smile for me.

Pan Stas 

They live off the land and tend cows and sheep. Pan Stas no longer leaves Rynias at all: he can’t make the hike to the village. I love the feel of his scratchy, unshaven chin as he kisses my hand, my cheek in gratitude. For what? The Fanny May chocolates with the bill stuck inside? Hasn’t opened them yet… It’s because I came back. He says repeatedly: “you promised last time [almost five years ago] you’d come back soon. You promised.”

Who are you and why are you looking at us? 

A tiny hut where they cook and eat. 

He makes me tea on their wood-burning stove and wobbles over to make more when I am done with the first glass. “Don’t go yet. Wait for Anna. She will be so sad to have missed you.” Anna went to town to shop for food. The two of them will do for Christmas what they do day in and day out: eat together, just the two of them. But they’ll cut down a tree and bring it inside.

I have to go: my ride is waiting in the next village. I love that he walks out with me, my highlander, my grandfatherly friend. He stands in the snow and watches me trudge down the path until we cannot see each other anymore.

Mountains frame the quiet Alpine valley 

The walk to Rynias is through a splendid pine forest... Balsam firs, dusted with snow, are everywhere... 

In Brzegi, the village next door, an old highlander takes a late afternoon walk. 

(Did anyone notice that the mountains were delicately laced with mist, but the sky turned into a wintry blue after all?)