Art of Darkness – Shooting Gallery: The Assassination of Gabriel Narutowicz (Part Two)

Gabriel Narutowicz’s short, tragic tenure as the first President of the Second Republic of Poland is the very definition of a footnote. Footnotes cite references and are usually found at the bottom of a page in history books. A history text of interwar Poland could place a footnote anywhere the word “dictatorship” appears. The footnote would then state, “see assassination of Gabriel Narutowicz on December 15^th, 1922 after only five days in office as President.” This was one of several events that sent Poland further down the spiral toward a military coup in 1926 and the inevitable dictatorship which followed. By the 1930’s Poland was governed in an authoritarian manner, where elections were fixed rather than free or fair.

While much milder than the Nazi and Stalinist dictatorships that controlled Germany and the Soviet Union, the one in Poland was symptomatic of a creeping authoritarianism that beset much of Central and Eastern Europe in the leadup to World War II. Art galleries are usually not synonymous with crime. Come to think of it, the only crime which occurs with any frequency in art galleries is the theft of paintings or other artistic treasures. Such heists are often glamorized. The crime that occurred in Warsaw’s Zacheta Gallery in the winter of 1922 was not glamorous. It was murderous. It had nothing to do with theft, except for a life stolen by an act of political violence. This crime was the work of a radical who wanted to change Poland’s government. Not with the ballot, but with bullets.

The Ultimate Sacrifice – Gabriel Narutowicz and Jozef Pilsudski (Credit Adam Duleba)

Paint It Black – Murderous Intent
On December 9^th, Gabriel Narutowicz took office as President of Poland. Less than a week later he would be dead. Fervent opposition to his presidency immediately arose. He was under attack throughout the next five days. When mud was not being slung at his car, it was thrown at him by the right-wing press who did their best to stir up discontent. When he was not being called the “Jewish President”, Narutowicz was accused of being a Freemason and an atheist. One of those who listened intently to the arguments against Narutowicz was a 51 year old painter, Eligiusz Niewiadomski. Words spoken in opposition to Narutowicz were not good enough for Niewiadomski. He decided to take matters into his own hand. One of those hands was clutching a Spanish made Zulaica automatic pistol.

On December 14^th, Narutowicz visited the Zacheta Gallery in Warsaw. Niewiadomski had managed to gain access to the gallery as employee of the Ministry of Culture and Art. The attack occurred as Narutowicz was viewing a newly installed exhibition at the gallery. While looking at the painting, “Hoarfrost” by Teodor Ziomek, Narutowicz was approached by Niewiadomski. The assassin then proceeded to fire three shots into the President before surrendering himself to startled onlookers. He then told those detaining him that he wished to be executed. Niewiadomski would later admit to the authorities that he really had not wanted to kill Narutowicz. He had planned to assassinate Pilsudski, but the opportunity had never presented itself. Instead, Narutowicz was sacrificed on the altar of Niewiadomski’s madness.

The Assassin – Eligiusz Niewiadomski (Credit: Polish Press Agency)

Ultimate Outcomes – Going To The Grave
Strangely enough, the assassin and the victim shared a couple of things in common. Most notably, both had lost their fathers while they were toddlers. Like Narutowicz, Niewiadomski had studied in St. Petersburg. These were commonalities, but the two men’s politics were diametrically opposed. As were their careers. While Narutowicz was a brilliant engineer, managing major public works projects abroad and later back home in Poland. Niewiadomski, had been everything from a painter to an art critic. He became increasingly nationalistic to the point that at the age of 50 he attempted to enlist in the armed forces. He was rejected for active duty but was given a job in counterintelligence. This did nothing to sate his appetite for rabid nationalism. Eventually his fervor brought about the hair trigger response that changed Poland’s politics for the worse.

The art of compromise in Polish politics was destroyed by the assassination. Narutowicz had been elected as a compromise candidate, a politician whose views were palatable to a wide swath of the Sejm (Polish Parliament) and the electorate. Niewiadomski was a political zealot, with narrow minded views of what Poland should be and who should live within its borders. He believed in a poisonous kind of patriotism. The kind that would do much more harm than good in Central and Eastern Europe during the interwar period. For Niewiadomski, Poland was for Poles and even then, only for those who shared his views. Anything else he considered insufficiently Polish. The ultimate outcome of his beliefs was murder. Following those beliefs cost Niewiadomski his life. He would be sentenced to execution and put to death a little over a month after the assassination. He drew his last breath before a firing squad at the Warsaw Citadel, going to the grave believing he had committed his patriotic duty.

Death of a President – Gabriel Narutowicz in funeral bier (Credit: Tygodnik Ilustrowany)

Destiny & Dictatorship = The Point Of No Return
The assassination of President Narutowicz shocked Poland. It was a portent of greater political upheavals to come. Niewadomski had connections with the right wing National Democratic Party. Those who backed the party, including the media, celebrated Niewadomski as a martyred hero. Narutowicz did not get anywhere near the same treatment. A reminder that in politics the middle of the road is where you can get run over. Narutowicz’s presidency was over before it began. What did Gabriel Narutowicz accomplish in his five days as president? The answer is rather obvious. Not much.

His tenure in office was so short that he did not even have time to appoint ministers. This became apparent after Narutowicz died. Poland went 24 hours without anyone leading the government. Narutowicz’s greatest accomplishment was unintentionally protecting Jozef Pilsudski from assassination. At his trial, Eligiusz Niewadomski stated that he had really wanted to kill Pilsudski. This makes Pilsudski’s decision not to run for the presidency seem like either a stroke of genius or luck. While Gabriel Narutowicz became a footnote in Polish history, Josef Pilsudski became a hero. After a military coup d’etat in 1926, he also became a dictator. As for Poland, it had gone down a road from which there was no turning back.

A Five Day Presidency – Dead Ends: The Assassination of Gabriel Narutowicz (Part One)

When discussing dictatorships during the interwar period (1919 – 1939) in European history, the focus usually falls on Nazi Germany and the Stalinist Soviet Union. Sandwiched between these two titans of totalitarianism was the Second Republic of Poland. To say interwar Poland was in the worst possible position is an understatement. Events between 1939 -1945 would prove that the Pole’s had a great deal to fear from their much larger and avaricious neighbors. Because Poland was so badly victimized during the Second World War by the Germans and Soviets, it can be easy to overlook the fact that Poland was governed for much of the interwar period by a dictatorship rather than a democracy. The Poles had their own problems with radical politics which led them down the dead end road of dictatorship.

Going from a flawed democracy to a dictatorship required several historical events to take place, one of the first and most deadly was the assassination of Gabriel Narutowicz in 1922, after he had served as the first President of the Second Republic for only five days. Narutowicz is a mere footnote for many in what was a sordid era, one that would end in failure. He is one of those characters that appears on the historical stage for the briefest of moments, but whose fate represents a portent of more ominous trends to follow. While Narutowicz is mainly known for his 120 hour tenure as the President of Poland, his life also represents many of the contradictions inherent in a Poland that was pieced back together in the postwar World War I world.

Looking Into the Future – Gabriel Narutowicz

Living Abroad – At Home In The World
Gabriel Narutowicz was born in 1865 within a Poland that had ceased to exist after the partitions of the late 19^th century. He came from a small Baltic town, Telsze, that was part of the Russian Empire. Today the town is located northern Lithuania (present day Telsiai). At the time of his birth, many of the inhabitants of Telze were Jewish. Narutowicz’s family were Polish-Lithuanian nobles. His father had been involved in the 1863 uprising against Tsarist Russian rule, was subsequently imprisoned for a year and died shortly thereafter. Young Gabriel’s mother was no less a patriot than his father. She moved her family to Latvia, a land where school instruction was less Russified and her children could learn in their native tongue. This was the first of many moves to come in Narutowicz life. He would end up spending less time in historically Polish lands, than he would abroad. That made him no less devoted to Poland.

When it was time for college, Narutowicz began his studies at St. Petersburg in Russia. Before long he was stricken by illness, leading him to quit school. Eventually, Narutowicz found his way to Zurich, Switzerland where he studied to become an engineer. He excelled in scientific subjects, leading him toward a career in the field of engineering. While in Switzerland, Narutowicz received another education just as valuable in the field of politics. While in Zurich, he began to assist Polish exiles who had fled onerous Russian rule back home. He also became involved in socialist politics. The Russian authorities looked with scarcely disguised disdain at Narutowicz’s activities. They soon banned him from returning to Russia. This would set the course for Narutowicz’s life abroad.

Engineering Success – Gabriel Narutowicz as a student in Zurich

Master Builder – Engineering Success
While he spent most of his adult life in Switzerland, Narutowicz’s time there shows he made every effort to help his ethnic brethren. All the while, he was making a name for himself in the field of engineering. At one point, Narutowicz was chief of engineering for work done on the Rhine River. He also held a teaching position at an Institute in Zurich for many years. While in this position, he continued to assist Poles in need during the First World War. His work brought him to the attention of those looking to build a strong and sustainable independent Poland after the war. Narutowicz was invited and accepted the position of Minister of Public Works for the reconstitute Polish nation. Narutowicz was an energetic and successful minister, overseeing public works projects that improved infrastructure and helped modernize Poland. He became so highly respected that the prestigious Minister of Foreign Affairs position was soon given to him.

It is a tragic irony that Narutowicz would end up being murdered by a right-wing nationalist for his supposed lack of sufficient Polish patriotism. He did as much as anyone to help Poland succeed. Politically, Narutowicz backed the policies of Poland’s most powerful native son, Josef Pilsudski. One point of disagreement between the two men was whether Narutowicz should run for the presidency. Pilsudski had declined to run because he thought the Presidency was not sufficiently powerful enough. Narutoicz decided to stay in the race. He was viewed as a sensible, compromise candidate, whose politics were moderate. That did nothing to mitigate criticism when he won a surprising victory in the election. The fact that Narutowicz’s electoral support came from a combination of center, left and pro-minority policies infuriated right wing nationalists. They could barely stomach Narutowicz’s candidacy, let alone his election.

The First President – Gabriel Narutowicz

An Unfolding Tragedy – “The Jewish President”
A campaign to slander Narutowicz by right wing and nationalist groups was promulgated to make his job more difficult. He held a tenuous position in a toxic political environment. Among the arguments used against him was that he supported Jews and non-Polish minorities. The right-wing press stirred discontent by stating that Narutowicz was the “Jewish President”. Slurs were frequently directed at him by rabid nationalists. It is interesting to note that much of this criticism likely arose due to deep rooted insecurities within the incipient Polish state. The Poles had more to worry about than the Soviets and Germans, it was also home to large minority populations which were eyed with suspicion.

One-third of the Second Republic’s population was made up of minorities including Ukrainians, Belarusians, Lithuanians and Rusyns, each of whom had their own national aspirations. Narutowicz’s formative life experiences with disparate cultures and living abroad should have made him an excellent choice for the presidency in an extremely complex Poland. Those experiences had certainly influenced his worldview. His background was questioned by those looking to crush his presidency before it even began. A tragedy was on the verge of unfolding as Narutowicz prepared to take office in December 1922. Little did he know just how short his tenure was going to be.

Click here for: Art of Darkness – Shooting Gallery: The Assassination of Gabriel Narutowicz (Part Two)

Sleeping Arrangements – Making Accommodations In Eastern Europe (Rendezvous With An Obscure Destiny #66b)

The older I get, the less I sleep. That is why I now value sleep more than ever before. To function properly I need between six and a half to seven hours of sleep now that I am on the wrong side of middle age. Getting enough sleep is particularly important when I am traveling in Eastern Europe. This is not easy for several reasons. One is that it takes a couple of days for my biological clock to adjust for the time difference between the United States and Eastern Europe. The other is that a good night’s rest is dependent on sleeping arrangements. No two rooms or beds are the same.

        Ready for rest – Secret Garden Hostel in Krakow

Staying Home – The Irrational & Highly Personal
Standardization is not a strong suit of accommodations in Eastern Europe. Nonetheless, there are outliers based on history rather than hospitality. For instance, I recently stayed in East Berlin at one of those concrete conurbations that grew like mushrooms in the German Democratic Republic (East Germany). The building had been transformed from a communist youth camp dormitory to a hotel. In this case, the young communists were subjected to standardization. This made the hotel rational, but impersonal. That is not usually the case. In Eastern Europe, irrational and highly personal are the norm for accommodations. It is my experience that most hotels, hostels, homes, and flats have been retrofitted. Rental properties are a major source of income for Eastern Europeans. This is an effective way for owners to top up their income in a region where earning a living is difficult. Some of them can earn a living by renting out a handful of places. This is especially true in tourist hotspots like Prague or the coast of Croatia.  

After communism ended, families were left with little more than their flats. Entrepreneurial ones who had access to cash or loans were able to purchase other flats at bargain basement prices. Others inherited flats or properties from family members. They could alter these to accommodate tourists. It is a strange and revealing experience to be met by the owner of a flat, who lives on another floor at the same apartment building. In Novi Sad, I met one owner’s son who told me that his mother owned multiple flats in the same building. She sent her son down to greet me because his English was impeccable. This was not the first time, nor would it be the last in which I had this experience. This is part of an evolution in offers of accommodation in Eastern Europe.

After the Iron Curtain fell, it was common for westerners to be confronted by old ladies offering rooms at cheap rates to anyone who showed up in a place looking for one. This was an affordable and adventurous option. I am also sure it was a memorable one. I have always wondered what it must be like to stay with a stranger that does not speak the same language. Sign language in the form of pointing was a standard form of communication. The amount of confusion must have been incredible, as well as incredibly poignant. Many things have changed for the better in the region since that time, but I am not sure booking rooms based on ratings and reviews is one of them. Trust is the most important unspoken aspect of travel. Sleeping in a stranger’s home takes a leap of faith. Those who took that leap had experiences they would never forget, for better or worse.

       On the outside looking up – Oki Doki Hostel in Warsaw

Hostel Intent – Getting In Bed With Sofia
I have spent the night in well over a hundred different accommodations during fifteen years of travel throughout Eastern Europe. My experiences have run the gamut from good to awful. Sometimes, I have slept well in less-than-ideal conditions due to exhaustion. Other times, I spent the night tossing and turning in optimal conditions. Because sleep, or the lack thereof, can make or break a trip, my best and worst travel experiences have often been affected by it. Like anyone else these days, I often rely on ratings and reviews to decide on where to stay. Sleeping arrangements are not the crap shoots they used to be back when I did not carry a smartphone. I still booked my accommodation using the internet, but I was much more likely to take chances and book ahead only a day or two in advance. Planning and preparation can lead to pleasant experiences, but there is something to be said for adverse conditions. Spending a night among strangers can be unforgettable. The best and worst place to experience this is at hostels.

Travelers rely on guidebooks and various booking sites to tell them the best places to sleep. That still does not guarantee anyone a good night’s rest. Sleeping soundly requires more than just a nice room, firm mattress, and silence. I learned this firsthand during my early travels in Eastern Europe when I stayed in hostels rather than hotels or flats. This was before Airbn and I had yet to begin using booking.com Though I was already well past the age at which most travelers stay at hostels, I looked forward to the experience of meeting people who were young and full of energy. My first stay in a hostel was in Sofia, Bulgaria. I was already in my late thirties and did not relish the idea of sleeping in the same room with anyone, let alone a group of strangers. Fortunately, Hostel Mostel which is a legendary accommodation in Bulgaria among the young and footloose offered single occupancy rooms.

           Looking up - Oki Doki Hostel

Making Noise – Fears of Intimacy
Having your own room is well worth the cost, but I learned that silence is hard to buy. The walls can be all too thin, even at the best of hostels. A group of my fellow Americans set world records for loudness due to excessive alcohol consumption during my first couple nights in Sofia. This led to me being bleary eyed for a couple of days in the Bulgarian capital. It could have been worse. At least they were not in the same room with me. My willingness to save money led me to book a room with four bunks at the oddly named Oki-Doki Hostel in Warsaw in the hopes of having no roommates.

Luck was not with me in Warsaw. Two of my roommates were a Taiwanese mother and daughter. They were unfailingly polite and extremely quiet, but sleeping in the same room with strangers was something I found unsettling. Getting up to use the bathroom was nerve wracking. I slept restlessly and made a mental note to myself never to share another room to save money. I had already paid a small fortune to fly from Montana to Warsaw, a couple of hundred dollars more in the interest of a good night’s rest should not have been a problem. I learned my lesson the hard way. This would not be the last time.

Click here for: Sleeping With Strangers – Hostel Interactions (Rendezvous With An Obscure Destiny #66c)

A Terrible Precedent – Taking Teschen (Polish-Czechoslovak War #3)

The Polish-Czechoslovak War may have been short and quickly forgotten by all except the combatants, but that still does not make it any easier to view a photo of atrocities committed during the conflict. Twenty men are laying on their backs in the snow close to a wrought iron fence.  Many of them have stunned looks on their faces. Others look as though they have fallen asleep. Only in this case they will never wake up. The photo was taken at the village of Stonava in the aftermath of a massacre that occurred on January 26,1919, when 20 Polish soldiers were killed by Czechoslovak troops. They were victims of the burst of violence which marked the Polish-Czechoslovak War. The men look innocent, though their murderers had considered them guilty. Their only crime was to be on the wrong side in a war that need not have been fought. The same could be said for so many of the conflicts that followed in the immediate post-World War I chaos to consume Europe.  

 Poisonous legacy – Bodies of Polish soldiers killed by Czech legionaries at Stonava

Taking Advantage – First With The Most
The Polish-Czechoslovak War was short, nasty, and brutish. It was also one-sided. Much of that had to do with Czechoslovak forces adhering to a key tenet of successful military actions by getting their first with the most. The idea is simple. Get more forces to the military objective before the other side does. If this is done in a well-coordinated and expedient manner, it gives the side that arrives first with a greater number of troops an advantage that will be extremely hard for the opposition to overcome. This sums up what Czechoslovak forces did so well in the Polish-Czechoslovak War fought in January 1919. The conflict is also known as the Seven Day War. In a war fought within such a narrow span of time, speed and numbers were of the utmost importance. Czechoslovakia was able to mobilize a much greater number of forces than Poland.

While Czechoslovakia was much smaller than Poland, it selected the optimal time for combat operations. The Poles gave the Czechoslovaks a pretense for war when they decided to hold elections in Teschen Silesia (Cieszyn Silesia) for the Sejm (Poland’s Parliament). This would have established Polish sovereignty over the territory. The Czechoslovaks quickly reacted. The speed at which they sent soldiers to Teschen Silesia caught the Poles flat footed. On January 23^rd, Czechoslovak Lieutenant-Colonel Josef Snejdarek met with Polish General Franciszek Latinak. Snejdarek informed him that Polish forces must withdraw from the region. He said that the western powers had sanctioned the Czech occupation of Teschen Silesia. Latinik refused. He doubted Snejdarek’s justification for good reason. It was a lie. Two hours after the meeting, Czechoslovak forces moved forward. The Poles were in an untenable position and Teschen Silesia was only one of their many military problems. They were already engaged in a war with Ukrainian forces around the city of Lwow (Lviv) and on the cusp of an even larger war with the Soviets. The last thing Poland needed was yet another war in a frontier region. That was just what the Czechoslovaks gave them.

After the fact – Polish troops entering Teschen after armistice with Czechoslovaks in February 1919

Grave Damage – A Broken Relationship
The Poles did not have enough soldiers to adequately defend the region. This allowed Czechoslovak forces to achieve their two main objectives, taking control of the Kosice-Bohumin Railway and the Karvina coal fields. The Czechs never relinquished the initiative during the seven days of fighting. This allowed them to establish facts on the ground before they were forced to halt their military activities due to pressure from the western powers. By that time, Czechoslovakia had achieved its goal of occupying the specific parts of Teschen Silesia it coveted. Their tactical victory would later turn into a strategic one. The Czechs were able to secure at the negotiating table what they had established on the ground. They achieved these goals with minimal casualties, but the collateral damage was immense. Czech soldiers committed atrocities against both Polish soldiers and civilians, The worst of these were the twenty Polish soldiers murdered at Stonava. This incident, along with several others, did grave damage to Czechoslovakia-Poland relationship.  

Czechoslovakia’s impetuous actions were successful in the short term, but ultimately came at great cost. There was no easy way to repair the damage that had been done. The Poles had a long memory. They felt Czechoslovakia was opportunistic when Poland was at a weak point. The hard feeling lasted throughout the interwar period. Relations between Czechoslovakia and Poland were perpetually tense. The Seven Day War for Teschen Silesia was a wound that continued to fester. This would have ramifications well beyond a single week of fighting. After Hitler rose to power in 1933, Czechoslovakia and Poland needed a collective security alliance more than ever before. Neither was big enough to single handedly hold off the German military. A revitalized relationship would have made it difficult for Hitler to turn against one or the other. Tragically, Czechoslovakia and Poland had done little during the interwar period to repair relations. Hitler used this to his advantage. When the Germans secured the Sudetenland in Czechoslovakia due to the Munich agreement, Poland stood idly by. There was no such thing as a united front in Eastern Europe to oppose the Third Reich.

An eye for an eye – Monument to Czechoslovak victims of Polish occupation of Teschen Silesia in 1938 (Credit: I. Ondrej Zvacek)

Full Circle – A Cynical Symmetry
When Czechoslovakia lost the Sudetenland to the Germans in 1938, Poland saw an opportunity to retake Teschen Silesia. The Czechoslovaks were too weak to confront them. Poland reoccupied the area they had lost two decades before. The Poles committed their own share of atrocities. Czechoslovakia was stripped of its territory. The controversy over Teschen Silesia had come full circle. Poland was now in the position that Czechoslovakia had been in 1919. The cynical symmetry of this back and forth served to weaken both countries. When a stronger relationship was needed, neither side was willing. The upshot was that both nations would end up succumbing to the Germans.

Could this have turned out differently if the Seven-Day War never happened? That is impossible to answer. What can be said is that the fight for Teschen Siesia provided short term gains at long term cost. For such a small war this one had an outsized effect. This was a case where an eye for an eye left everyone blind. Was the war worth it for Czechoslovakia? In 1919 the answer was yes. By 1938, the answer was a resounding no. For tactical gains, Czechoslovakia had made a tragic mistake from which they could not recover.

Opportunity Costs – Trying To Take Teschen (Polish-Czechoslovak War #2)

It is difficult to overstate just how consumed by conflict Eastern Europe was following the end of World War I. Wars, cross-border conflicts, and armed uprisings broke out across the region. Land, ideology, natural resources, ethnic frictions, and railroads were the cause of numerous conflicts. Trying to figure out exactly when World War I ended, and peace began in the region is not clear. There were numerous important moments, rather than a single definitive one.

This was unlike the western front where the signing of an armistice at Compiegne in France ended the war on November 11, 1918. Combat on the Eastern Front supposedly ended eight months earlier when the Treaty of Brest-Litovsk was agreed between the Central Powers (Germany, Austria-Hungary and the Ottoman Empire) and Soviet Russia. German and Austro-Hungarian troops then occupied territory that had been part of the Russian Empire. Their occupation came to an end with the armistice at Compiegne. This led to a power vacuum that opened a pandora’s box of conflicts throughout Eastern Europe.

Dueling identities – Signs at Cesky Tesin (Czeski Cieszyn) Railway Station in Czech and Polish (Credit: Vojtech Dockal)

Unfinished Fights – Free For All
The complex nature of numerous uprisings, civil wars, and territorial struggles in postwar Eastern Europe is extremely difficult to understand. A single nation could be involved in fighting on multiple fronts. Take for instance Poland, which in 1919 was fighting the Polish-Lithuanian War, Polish-Soviet War, Polish-Ukrainian War, and skirmishes with remnants of the German Army. Every one of those opposing forces was a sworn enemy of the Poles. Yet it is another conflict in 1919 that stands out for its quixotic nature.

The Poles, Czechs, and Slovaks should have been brothers in arms. They did not have any recent history of conflict with one another. All three had been subsumed under empires that thwarted their independence. The Poles by the Germans, Russians and Austrians, the Czechs by the Austrians, and the Slovaks by the Hungarians. Despite their shared sense of nationalist aspirations, they would come into conflict with one another as Poland and Czechoslovakia battled for Teschen Silesia (Cieszyn Silesia), a small region in northwestern Slovakia that each side coveted for very different reasons.

Teschen Silesia was a point of contention in the scramble for territory after World War I ended. The region had been formerly administered by Austria-Hungary with Teschen (Polish: Cieszyn/Czech: Tesin) as its largest city. The city was host to the empire’s military headquarters which played an outsized role in Austria-Hungary’s defeat. Conrad von Hotzendorf, Chief of the General Staff of the Austro-Hungarian Military, managed the war from Teschen. The upshot was that Hotzendorf’s military blunders destroyed much of Austria-Hungary’s army. This eventually brought about the empire’s dissolution. That collapse meant Teschen was up for grabs. Both Poland and Czechoslovakia – reborn as independent nations – coveted Teschen and the territory around it. Poland thought it should have the area because of demographics. Conversely, Czechoslovakia believed it was critical to the nation’s survival. 

Divided up – Cieszyn (left), Cesky Tesin (right) and the Olza River in recent times
(Credit: Darwinek)

Strength In Numbers – Demographics & Economics
While Teschen Silesia had been part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire prior to World War I, it had deeper roots as the Duchy of Teschen, which had been Lands of the Bohemian Crown. This gave the Czechs a foothold based upon history, but during the postwar period, demography was just as important as history. During the 19^th century, greater numbers of Poles moved into the area. By 1919, the situation on the ground favored Poland. Ethnic Poles made up a majority of the inhabitants in three of Teschen Silesia’s four districts. Demographics were a powerful force in the reconstituted Polish state. Poland needed as many Poles as possible. In other areas of the nation such as its southeastern region, Poles were outnumbered by Ukrainians. There were also large numbers of ethnic Germans, Lithuanians, and Belarusians scattered across different areas of Poland. Placing Teschen in Poland would provide a small, but much needed boost of ethnic Poles. 

The Czechs feared the demographic issue due to the precedent it would set. If a majority Polish area in historical Czech lands were to join Poland, what would keep the majority ethnic German areas in the Sudetenland from joining Germany. Czechoslovakia was much smaller than either Poland or Germany. It could not afford for the minorities within its borders to demand self-determination. The country’s survival would be at stake. Czechoslovakia needed more territory not less.

For both Czechoslovakia and Poland, Teschen Silesia was also a question of economics. Including the region in either would leave one nation richer, and the other poorer. Silesia was home to some of the largest deposits of coal in Europe. Coal was a vital energy resource. It played much the same role that oil does today. Coal fueled industrialization, which in turn spurred economic development. If Czechoslovakia and Poland were going to survive, they needed strong economies. Neither nation’s economic prospects were optimal. The Karvina coal fields in Teschen Silesia could help mitigate that problem. This was the region’s economic crown jewel and one that neither side would give up without a fight.

Another issue was the Kosice-Bohumin railway, an important connection between the Czech lands and Slovakia. Bohumin was a crucial international transport and communication hub. The largest cargo railway station in east-central Europe was located there. If Teschen went to Poland, Bohumin would be on its fringes. Whereas for Czechoslovakia, it would offer an efficient connection to the Slovak hinterland. In sum, Czechoslovakia believed its viability as an independent nation was threatened without Teschen. That was less true for Poland, but Teschen was still a territory they coveted. A negotiated settlement between the two countries should have been possible.

Boots on the ground – Czechoslovak legionaries leaving for Slovakia for Cieszyn Silesia

Men At Arms – The March To War
The two sides came to a provisional agreement on the territory on November 5, 1918, but this was done by local authorities and favored Poland. Czechoslovakia’s government did not recognize this agreement. The Poles followed up by organizing an election that would send representatives from Teschen to the Sejm, Poland’s parliament. relations between the two sides were at the breaking point. The Czechs reacted by sending in troops. This caught the Poles off guard. They were busy fighting larger wars. One against the Ukrainians and another against the Soviets. The Poles could not afford to spare troops to defend the region. The Czechs took advantage of the situation. The stage was set for the Czechs to impose their will by military force. All that stood in the way were weaker Polish forces. What happened next would poison relations between Czechoslovakia and Poland for a generation.

Click here for: A Terrible Precedent – Taking Teschen (Polish-Czechoslovak War #3)

Delusions Deferred – A Trip Without Torun (Rendezvous With An Obscure Destiny #61b)

Every traveler has their limit. The moment when a trip turns miserable. The moment when thoughts of home become overwhelming. The moment when the traveler feels like they could lay down and sleep forever. For some, this moment manifests itself in irritation and barely concealed anger, for others it is accompanied by a dreadful lassitude that is synonymous with exhaustion. My travel companion and I were suffering a variety of self-inflicted travel induced ailments as we headed towards our next to last day in Poland. The tension was palpable and our grouchiness perpetual. There were longer periods of silence caused by an all-consuming fatigue.

On down the line – Platform at Gdansk Railway Station (Credit: Diego Delso)

An Unkind Word – For Want of Curiosity
All the excitement with which our trip to Poland started had completely dissipated. We were a mere semblance of our former selves. Gdansk, Berlin, Malbork and Olsztyn had taken all our energy. At this stage, curiosity was an unkind word. There was nothing left for us, not even the shouting. Weariness was registered in thousand-mile stares. This was not the way I wanted our trip to end. I yearned for a final hurrah. I began to wonder if we could marshal up the energy for such an effort or even if we wanted to. Doubts had begun to creep in. What would be the point of pushing ourselves beyond exhaustion. With one full day still left to us, I began to conjure up a plan for a trip to Torun.

The previous twelve days had been a whirlwind. The energy and enthusiasm that we had shown was nowhere to be found. Neither of us had to say a word. We were both ready for bed by mid-afternoon. Dreaming of a deep sleep and waking up stateside. That was not so much a dream, as it was a delusion. We still had a full day left on our agenda. How would we fill that day up? Would it be by sleeping in, relaxing in the guest house by reading all day? Perhaps go out for a short stroll? While these options were appealing, there was next to no chance that we would avail ourselves of such opportunities. Instead, I was planning one last trip. This one would be to Torun, a city that is situated astride the Vistula and known for its spectacular Old Town. The first order of business was figuring out how to get there from Gdansk.

No go zone – Empty passenger seats on a train at Torun Railway Station
(Credit: Upior polnocy)

Judgment Call – The Point of Purchase
We were back in Gdansk for the third time. This was to be our final point of departure for the trio of flights that would take us home. Nevertheless, we felt the need to make the most of the time we had left and were fatigued by the thought. These two conflicting emotions competed with one another, leaving us in limbo. I tried to ignore my fatigue, keeping the trip to Torun front and center in my mind. This was not easy. Doing anything at the end of a long trip always seems pointless. There is packing and planning, hurrying and worrying to do. It was my job to ensure that everything was in order prior to our return flights. I could have kept myself busy with just that. Instead, I focused on trying to force a trip to Torun. I convinced my travel partner we should go straight to Gdansk’s main train station to purchase tickets for the next day’s journey.

My companion went along with the idea of Torun because he trusted my judgement. At this point, he had more confidence in me than I had in myself. That was because all our previous adventures were successful. Our aimless wanderings and side trips were always illuminating. Going the extra kilometers each day had paid immense dividends. We got to see much more than originally intended. The trip had exceeded expectations every day. Unfortunately, past performance did not guarantee another successful outcome. Ironically, past performance was the problem. It had engendered a level of fatigue that I had not felt before. Torun would be the ultimate test of endurance requiring reserves of stamina that I doubted either of us had. Still, all we had to do was purchase tickets and turn up at the train station the next morning. That should have been easy enough. It wasn’t.

What might have been – Evening train at Gdansk Railway Station (Credit: Kudak)

Just Say No – The Decisive Blow
Gdansk’s main train station was under construction. This turned out to be highly problematic for those looking to purchase tickets. No one was allowed inside. Finding the ticket window proved next to impossible. We walked beneath the platforms, on the platforms and around the station multiple times without finding it. I resorted to my usual strategy of asking passersby where we could purchase tickets. I got various directions that led back to places we had already been. This went on for twenty minutes. I became severely stubborn. My goal transformed from buying tickets for Torun. Into finding the ticket desk. My travel companion stood beside me in stoic silence. He must have thought I was crazy to keep trying. More worryingly, I thought I was crazy to keep trying. I spent less time conversing with him and more time talking to myself. The longer this exercise in futility lasted, the more the Torun trip became an afterthought.

Finally, I found the ticket desk and waiting room in a temporary setup that had the atmosphere of a place under martial law. People sat around looking just as hopeless as us. I was forced to take a number and wait my turn. By the time I got to the window, my interest in Torun had waned. The ticket seller rendered the decisive blow when he told me the time we would need to depart. This was much earlier than I had imagined. To make matters worse, we would be returning late in the evening. Just the thought of this defeated me. I consulted with my travel companion who was aghast at the thought of the trip taking up an entire day. I half-heartedly attempted to talk him into it. He was firmly against it. I felt relieved. This freed us from the maddening merry go round of constant travel we had been on for the past two weeks. The delusion of my travel companion and I traveling to Torun had ended. We could not have been happier.

Click here for: Steininger’s Story – The Bearded Wonder of Braunau Am Inn (Rendezvous With An Obscure Destiny #62)

Dreams Deferred – Torun & Trips Not Taken (Rendezvous With An Obscure Destiny #61a)

There comes a certain time in life when you realize that you will never be young again. That you are closer to death than you could have ever imagined. That half of your life is over even with the best of health. That your life will forever be defined by all that is behind you rather than what is ahead. We have all heard of the road less traveled, but that Is a young person’s pursuit or the aged survivalist who through a combination of choice, circumstance, and luck, never took the easy way out. I have no idea if I ever took the road less traveled. What I am certain of is something less positive, the trip not taken. The buses that left the station before I arrived, the trains that were already down the line while I stood staring at the clock, the flights that I never made, the chances I would not take. This includes an aborted trip to Torun during my springtime travels in Poland.

Old Town at twilight – View of Torun from across the Vistula (Credit: Lestat)

Neverlands – Too Many To Mention
For every trip I have taken, there have been many more for which I could not follow through. When you are closer to the end then the beginning, whether it is your life or a two-week trip, time becomes a ticking clock that offers ever diminishing returns. The sand in the hourglass is running out. You barely noticed this at the beginning. Now all you can see is each separate grain of sand. A limited amount of time can focus the mind. It becomes now or never, act or do nothing. When faced with the question “To go or not to go?” I answered with a negative. In the process, I convinced myself that I did not have a choice. I had a choice and each time I took the escape route. I will never know whether I made the right decision, but from a distance it feels like failure. This is not nearly as haunting as another related thought. That many of those trips will never happen. The future is not what it used to be. I am running out of time. Then again, I was always running out of time. The difference is that I realize this.

The trips not taken are the bane of every traveler’s existence. In that respect, I am no different. I would like to change Sinatra’s famous lyric in “My Way” from “Regrets, I’ve had a few, But then again, too few to mention” to “Regrets, I’ve had more than a few, too many to mention.” At the top of my list of regrets are the trips not taken. The dreams I deferred due to lack of courage, lack of money, lack of time, lack of will. I convinced myself that I was too tired or allowed circumstances to dictate what I would do. The trips not taken are a thread that runs throughout my life. There was the dream of Albania in my early college years. Now Albania is all the rage and still interests me, but not the way that mysterious Balkan nation did in the early 1990’s when it was emerging from a hermetic existence. That was just the start of my Eastern Europe misadventures. I came to a fork in the road and decided to turn back. My stillborn journeys fascinate and frighten me in unequal measure.

The trip not taken – Railway bridge over the Vistula at Torun

Limitless Appeal – Outside The Realm Of Reality
I would like to read my mind back to me and find out just what I was thinking when I decided against a trip. Some nights, like this one, these aborted journeys come back to haunt me. Like the time I was so tired that I denied myself the delights of a return visit to Oradea. Or the time I drove past the exit for Lugos on the way to Timisoara. There is a statue of Bela Lugosi still waiting on me in Lugos. The memory of that miss is still vivid, the will to return is weak. The countless times I have committed in words rather than deeds for a trip to Tallinn. A visit to the Estonian capital still has not happened, now I wonder if it ever will. The Castle of Siklos in southern Hungary has been on my list of must-sees for almost a decade. I have a stinging suspicion that it will stay that way. The list grows longer and more static as the years go by. Chernivtsi and Edirne, Kaunas and Plovdiv, a second time in Spis land, a first time in Bukovina. These are the dreams I can always remember. They still exist outside the realm of reality.

While I cannot remember every one of my trips not taken, I can vividly recall a more recent one that I denied myself in Poland. This would not be for want of trying, instead it would be for want of deciding. We had just returned from an enjoyable and exhausting time in the countryside of northern Poland. Prior to that we had spent several days in Gdansk. Before that, we had done a trip from Gdansk to Berlin and back. We were acting like young men, while our bodies and biological clocks were ready to rebel. The wear and tear from constant travel had pushed us to the limit. Each day we drove off into the Polish countryside to explore byways and backwoods areas by vehicle and on foot. We took numerous detours, doubled back to search the same areas again and figured out logistics on the go.

Rising above the ruins – Torun (Credit: Pko)

Tripping Out – Point of Exhaustion
Caught up in the spirit of adventure, it was only at night that we took notice of the creeping malaise that eventually wearies every traveler. The constant need to be situationally aware had a cumulative impact. Then the next day we were back at it again. Like all addictions, this one was bound by the laws of diminishing returns. The more we did, the less we felt. Everything was educational, even the roads and restaurants. Somewhere along the way we managed to overwhelm ourselves. And yet I still harbored one last dream. All we had to do was push past the point of exhaustion. I knew this was pushing the limits beyond our capabilities at this point in the trip. Most people would go back and spend the day relaxing at the guest house, preparing for the flights back home. Logically, that would have been the best plan, but we were at the point of exhaustion. This was less about logic and more about one last adventure. A day trip from Gdansk to Torun and back.

Click here for: Delusions Deferred – A Trip Without Torun (Rendezvous With An Obscure Destiny #61b)

On Time Arrival – First Flight From Katowice (Rendezvous With An Obscure Destiny #60)

The first time is always memorable. Whether that first time is a good or bad memory often depends on the outcome. If the outcome was successful, the first time is well documented and often lauded as a harbinger of the greater things that would come. If the first time was a failure, it is forever remembered for all the wrong reasons. The first time is predictive and provocative. Legends grow up around the first time. I witnessed this firsthand at an early age. I grew up in North Carolina, which famously billed itself as “First in Flight” due to the first successful flight taking place there in 1907 by the Wright Brothers at Kill Devils Hill.

The tagline “First in Flight” was prominently placed on vehicle license plates. This was a point of great pride for the state and its citizens. That slogan was pointedly challenged by the state where I now live. Ohio was where the Wright Brothers developed their idea. The state of Ohio developed the tagline “Birthplace of Aviation” to allow it to garner credit for the Wright Brothers’ accomplishment. This might seem like an esoteric argument, but there is only one first time. For something as transformative as flight the stakes are quite literally high.

The first time – Katowice to London Luton flight path on Wizz Air

Getting Started –Taking To The Air
Historic firsts in the field of flight are well known and rightfully exalted. There is a daredevil aspect to flight that makes its innovators seem superhuman. They have performed a remarkable feat by defying gravity and cheating death. The most revered firsts in flight involve individuals, but they can also involve the business of commercial flight. For an airline to survive and thrive is a remarkable achievement. One that takes business acumen, lots of luck, even greater amounts of hard work, and being in the right place at the right time. This is what happened with the first flight of an airline that went on to play an outsized role in the economic and human development of Eastern Europe.

On May 19, 2004, Wizz Air’s first flight took off from Katowice-Pyrzowice Airport in southwestern Poland and landed at London Luton Airport. This was the start of greater things to come, both for Wizz Air and Eastern Europeans who would come to use the airline to take them far from home to destinations throughout Europe for immigration. travel, and business trips. These flights became a connection between the region and the rest of Europe. That first flight is worth remembering because of Wizz Air’s influence on the development of Eastern Europe. An influence that continues today.    

Less than three weeks after Poland became a member of the European Union, Wizz Air’s first flight took off at 6:20 a.m. from Katowice, Poland and landed in London Luton at 7:30 a.m. A return flight in the opposite direction followed at 8:05 a.m. and landed in Katowice at 11:20 a.m. (time differences are due to Poland and Great Britain being in separate time zones) On that same day, round trip flights were completed to Wizz Air’s three other destinations at Milan-Bergamo, Rome-Ciampino, and Berlin Schoenfeld. All five airports used for those eight inaugural flights were off the radar of frequent flyers. This was according to plan. Using secondary airports for flights into some of Europe’s most famous cities on one hand, and the main airports of provincial cities as their home bases on the other, was a strategy that Wizz Air would repeat with a high degree of success again and again.

Now boarding – Wizz Air at Katowice-Pyrzowice Airport (Credit: Piotrus)

Opportunity Costs – Out of the Dark
Wizz Air’s first flights all occurred on a single Aerobus A320 jet. This was not exactly an auspicious beginning. Katowice had something to do with the lack of notoriety. Located in Upper Silesia, Katowice is not on the list of great Polish cities. It pales in comparison to the competition which includes the capital of Warsaw, the cultural capital Krakow, the economically vibrant and historically redolent Wroclaw, and the former Hanseatic port city of Gdansk. As for Katowice, most Europeans would have had trouble locating it on a map in 2004. The same is still true today. Those who visited Katowice following the Iron Curtain’s collapse were less than impressed.

The city had a well-deserved reputation for being considered one of the ugliest in Poland. It was pockmarked with brutalist architecture from the communist period. The usual high rise apartment blocks had grown like mushrooms on the city’s periphery. The inhabitants had moved to the area because jobs were plentiful. Silesia is a region rich in coal mines. The economy was based on heavy industry and Katowice had pollution to show for it. It still does today with some of the worst air quality in Europe. This helped power Katowice and polluted the environment. The same could be said for many other Polish cities, but Katowice did not have the historical cachet to recommend it.

What Katowice did have was a central location where major roads and railway lines intersected. It served as a transport hub for a surrounding area of 13 million people. Many of these people were ready to take their skills abroad and work in other EU member states. Flights to and from London Luton were one of the biggest draws for Poles who found Wizz Air’s flights accessible and affordable. The delays, pay for amenities model, and general discomfort of these flights were easily ignored by economic migrants. Wizz Air’s no-frills style meshed well with Poles who were not used to being pampered. The first flight from Katowice was only the beginning.

On the rise – Katowice-Pyrzowice Airport (Credit: Zygmunt Put)

Ready For Launch – Getting Off The Ground
What started in Katowice with Wizz Air soon expanded across all the countries which had once been hidden behind the Iron Curtain. Wizz Air is and always will be an Eastern European airline, no matter how far flung the ever-growing list of destinations. It is headquartered in Budapest. The CEO, Jozsef Varadi, hails from Debrecen in eastern Hungary, a second-tier city like Katowice that Wizz Air has put on the flight map. Despite its dreadful on-time record and less than stellar customer service record, Wizz Air continues to succeed. In so many ways, Wizz Air is a product of the same region from which it was born. A region that is rough on the edges, ready for new opportunities, and the success or failure which comes with them. The first Wizz Air flight from Katowice was a harbinger of what was to come. Eastern Europe was entering a new frontier. Wizz Air achieved liftoff at Katowice. 

Click here for: Dreams Deferred – Torun & Trips Not Taken (Rendezvous With An Obscure Destiny #61a)

Salt of the Earth – Fathomless Depths (Wieliczka Salt Mine #2)

There are some places that will forever remain mysterious to me even after I visit them. These are the places that no matter how hard I try; I can never quite come to terms with them. Caves and mines are tops on this list. The underground has always seemed inhuman to me. Maybe it is the half-lit corridors that dim into darkness. The lack of visual orientation and the inherent lifelessness of silent spaces. The hypothermic chill, seemingly infinite passageways, and creeping sense of claustrophobic. These leave me feeling listless and puzzled. I cannot fathom such depths, but that has not stopped me from trying.

Going deep – St Kinga’s Chapel at Wieliczka Salt Mine

Digging Deep – The Land Down Under
Almost two decades ago, I guided tours through one of the world’s longest caves in the Black Hills of western South Dakota. This cave is a natural wonder of unfathomable proportions. At the time only about 2% of its estimated 5,000 miles of passageways had been explored. This is one of the final frontiers of human exploration of the earth. Working there should have given me an appreciation of the subterranean world. Instead, it left me without any compelling emotion. My favorite moment was when the tour ended. Despite this, I did my best to sound enthusiastic while providing enough information and interpretation to keep visitors engaged. I am rather proud of the fact that I could still give meaningful tours. One of the greatest compliments I received was from a gentleman at the end of a tour who grabbed my hand, shook it vigorously and said, “I can tell you are a man who knows his caves.” That was high praise since I knew very little about caves. Despite this, I still felt the same way about caves as when I first set foot in one, indifferent and apathetic.

There was just not enough life in a cave to interest me. Besides a handful of explorers, the cave was devoid of human history. I have nothing against geology and at times have found it strangely fascinating, but trying to understand geological processes standing in half lit rooms was less than inspiring. Nevertheless, there was a recurring moment on those cave tours that I can still recall with wonder. The tours started in a massive room that was at least 50 meters from top to bottom and about that wide. Rock fall was all around the raised platforms where visitors stood. Awestruck visitors would ask, “How did they excavate this?” I kept a straight face and replied that the room was created by natural geological processes. For a long time, I laughed about that question. It was utterly ridiculous, but I later discovered that humans could indeed excavate such a massive underground space. Like geological processes, it took time and patience. I came to this conclusion while visiting Wieliczka Salt Mine near Krakow, Poland.

Infinite Passage -Corridor in Wieliczka Salt Mine (Credit: Chepry)

White Gold – Wieliczka’s World Heritage
A travel companion and I were on a multi-day trip to Krakow and its surroundings. By the last day, we had exhausted everything on our must-see list and were looking for other attractions that might be of interest. Wieliczka Salt Mine was the most appealing option, if for no other reason than it was a UNESCO World Heritage Site. In my mind, World Heritage Sites are to the rest of the world, what National Parks are to the United States, the best of the best. They are natural or cultural heritage sites considered to be of outstanding value to humanity. Because these places are so unique, there are relatively few of them. Wieliczka and Bochnia Salt Mines are listed together as one of Poland’s 17 World Heritage Sites. (Bochnia Salt mine is 30 kilometers east of Wieliczka). Wieliczka was easy to access. Located beneath a town of the same name, the mine is part of the greater Krakow metropolitan area. Because of its proximity to Krakow, Wieliczka gets on average a million visitors per year. It was easy to see why.

Salt was mined from Wieliczka for seven hundred years. Now in the 21^st century it is money, rather than salt, that is mined from tourism. Though it was late September with the summer season already over, there was still a line for those wanting to take a tour. The timed ticketing and tour operations were efficient. In a matter of minutes, my travel companion and I were descending into the depths. Immediately, I felt the size of the Wieliczka Salt Mine would be impossible to fathom. In this regard, the tour did not help much. The corridors seemed endless. They were the closest thing I have experienced to a modern lair of the minotaur. It was a labyrinth so immense that no one could possibly set foot in every inch of it. There are 278 kilometers (178 miles) of passages and chambers in the mine. At its deepest, the mine is 327 meters (1,127 feet) beneath the surface. Remarkably, all of this was the product of centuries worth of blood, sweat, and toil by miners. Salt was coveted, especially during the medieval and the early modern period. Known as “White Gold”, salt provided a major source of revenue for whomever controlled Wieliczka.

Poland’s greatest king, Casimir the Great (1333 – 1370), utilized revenue from the mine to transform Krakow from a city of wood to one of stone. Ironically, wood would be needed in massive quantities to construct shafts. Over the centuries, this led to deforestation throughout the surrounding region. Other authorities, such as the Habsburg who came to rule over the area starting in the late 18^th century, brought the mine under their control. Salt revenues were an important part of the imperial budget. Mining operations at Wieliczka finally came to an end during the latter half of the 20^th century, but tourism has kept the mine open to the public.

Works of Man – Models of miners at work in Wieliczka Salt Mine (Credit: Rj1979)

Beyond Comprehension – A Daunting Scale
I found Wieliczka Salt Mine to be both impressive and daunting. The human ingenuity it took to excavate the salt is worthy of the highest respect. So is St. Kinga’s Chapel, the deepest chapel in the world where the tour ended under the glitter of lights amid Poland’s most sacred underground space. Nonetheless, the daunting scale of Wieliczka made it impossible for me to grasp. The mine was well beyond any human sense of scale. Paradoxically, it had all been created by the hand of man. The mine left me just as dumbfounded as those visitors I had taken on cave tours. Their question, “How was this created?” now popped into my mind. In theory, I understood how the mine was excavated, but the reality was I did not have the slightest clue. For that reason, Wieliczka Salt Mine will always remain a mystery to me. A place I can appreciate, but never quite understand.

Depths of Experience – Going Deep (Wieliczka Salt Mine #1)

Growing up in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains in western North Carolina, I always equated mining with poverty. The men who toiled underground led lives of extreme toil in near darkness. They scratched out a meager existence while working for companies that could have cared less whether they lived or died. Those who survived the ordeal often had their lives cut short from maladies they had incurred from the thousands of hours they spent underground. Others suffered in horrific mining accidents that occurred all too often. West Virginia was the epicenter of mining for those of us who lived in or around the Appalachian Mountains. Eastern Kentucky was a close second. Both places were bywords for dirt poor and hard labor. Because coal mining was one of the few industries in those areas that offered gainful employment, the inhabitants had little choice except to work in the mines.

I am forever grateful that western North Carolina was scarce in mineral resources. Geology saved the region where I grew up from a similar fate to that of West Virginia and Eastern Kentucky. Mining was something to be avoided at all costs, for the simple reason that it cost people their lives. In return it offered a less than satisfying life. Mining was at best a zero-sum enterprise, at worst a negative force that literally kept the common man down. Little did I know at the time that my opinion of mining’s benefits and drawbacks would change after I traveled to one of the world’s greatest mines located beneath the earth not far from Poland’s most beautiful city. An underground world so laden with history and wonder that it would have been remiss not to plunge into the depths of the earth.

Depth of History – Wieliczka (Credit: Chepry)

The Great Comeback – Returning To Krakow
Krakow is Poland’s second largest city behind Warsaw, but it is first in the hearts of both Poles and foreigners. The city is charming and elegant with a multiplicity of attractions to recommend it. The history, culture, and architecture on offer are magnificent expressions of the city’s importance since the Middle Ages. Krakow was and always will be the royal capital of Poland and it still retains a magisterial aesthetic. One cannot help but feel the power of Poland’s past as they walk along Krakow’s elegant streets. There is no greater commendation for the glories of Poland. Within a day of my first visit, I immediately knew Krakow was an expression of the nation’s greatness.

That is why anytime someone asks me where to go in Poland, I reflexively answer Krakow. Though there are several other outstanding cities such as the increasingly cosmopolitan Warsaw and the architecturally magnificent Gdansk, Krakow manages to rise above the competition. It has such a wealth of architectural, artistic, cultural, and historical wonders that I made two separate trips to the city. This is something I rarely do with most places in Eastern Europe. Krakow was worth the return visit.

On my second visit, I even managed to return to many of the same places such as Wawel Castle, Poland’s most sacred place where many Polish kings and heroes are buried. I sought out the city’s atmospheric Jewish quarter, Kazimierz, which gives an approximation of the rich Jewish life that was pervasive in Krakow prior to World War II. There is the Main Square, the largest medieval one in Europe. It is surrounded by a stunning array of architectural delights. If that was not enough, Krakow has a memorable natural setting, as the mighty Vistula River curls around it.

Welcome to Krakow – Performance artist in the Old Town

Salt of the Earth – Awe-Inspiring Aesthetics
Visiting Krakow multiple times is a must for those wanting to uncover the many layers of architectural, political, and cultural history the city has to offer. One can get so caught up in Krakow’s Stare Miesto (Old Town) that they never venture further afield. This happened to me on my first visit. During my return trip, I made it a point to visit a place on the outskirts of Krakow that has its own awe-inspiring aesthetics. Wieliczka Salt Mine is one of the most famous in Europe and rightfully so. The mine provided wealth that powered the exploits of Poland’s most famous king, Casimir the Great. Later, the Habsburg Empire benefitted from its riches.

The mine’s importance in the history of Poland makes it a must see.
I would never specifically take a trip to travel underground, not even in my beloved Eastern Europe. There are too many things to see by the light of day to spend my time squinting in half-light while peering at some shadowy wonders. Caves, bunkers, and mines are not my thing. They are cold and claustrophobic. Humidity is slimy and suffocating. Plus, being in a confined space full of strangers is not the kind of experience I willingly seek. There is also the captive audience effect. Very few underground places which are run in a responsible manner will allow people to guide themselves through a dark labyrinth on their own. They might easily get lost and stumble into disaster. Having a guide in such an environment is understandable. The only problem is that without fail, the guide is either going through the motions of their umpteenth tour or they inflict information on their captive audience. The latter is much worse than the former.

Magisterial Setting – Old Town in Krakow

One Of A Kind – Depths of Experience
Trying to digest information in a low-lit space surrounded by strangers while an English speaking guide recites a mind-numbing amount of facts is a less than ideal way to experience natural or historic wonders. I prefer to have a tour in a foreign tongue because it allows me to focus on the surrounding environment rather than the speaker. I cannot remember whether the guide at the Wieliczka Salt Mine who gave my tour spoke English or not. It was dark and there were at least 20 other people taking the tour. That was enough to distract me. Being in an underground world created by centuries of manmade excavation filled me with awe and wonder. Visiting Wieliczka was a one-of-a-kind experience, one specific part of which I vividly remember.

Click here for: Salt of the Earth – Fathomless Depths (Wieliczka Salt Mine #2)