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We got back to Krakow by evening, and walked around the city observing the wad of support for Poland’s national football team prior to their Euro 2008 clash with bitter neighbours Germany. If only the team had embodied the passion of the nation – as it turned out they were quite dismal and lost comfortably. Regardless, it’s hard not to like this country. People are friendly.
Ever since I first developed an understanding of the Second World War and what the Holocaust was, it has fascinated me. There were therefore two places I decided that I must visit in relation to it – Hiroshima, in Japan and Auschwitz, in Poland. In 2005 we got the opportunity to visit Hiroshima and one of the expected results was a realization of what actually happened.
It’s 9am. Outside our hotel is a tiny beer garden that’s already full to the brim with a legion of meagerly clad Stag weekenders. They all have similar appearances and intentions. The only way to tell them apart is by the jejune florescent writing on the backs of their t-shirts – if indeed they’re wearing any. We are waiting for the old, faithful taxi driver who took us into town last night.
I’m quite sure Poland was once a fairly offbeat destination for British tourists – somewhere too far the other side of Germany to be popular. That is, until Eastern Europe was invaded by low cost airlines. Sure, it paved the way for humble adventurists like ourselves to go and admire the portentous wonderment of a slightly different culture. But there was also another side.
