Craców

So, we left for Craców on the morning of the 26th. With 7 hours of train travel ahead of us we settled into our reserved seats by the windows and stared at the fields and trees as they flew by.

In complete defiance of all documented weather trends for the area, the sun guided us through the Bohemian countryside safely into the Moravian hills and across the Polish border. We changed trains in Katowice by literally jumping off our old horse and strutting across the platform towards the closing doors of our new horse.

A handful of travelers, upon hearing me get confirmation from the railman, piled into the car behind us. With the sun now disappearing, we yawned and stretched out for the final hour and a half of our journey.

As we pulled into Craców's main station (Glówny), we could feel the biting cold through the cracks in the windows. The cold air darting in through the open doors removed all feelings of exhaustion and propelled me into a dizzying scramble towards the lights and sounds of the Old Town.

We confronted an ATM and left with money in our pockets. Luckily our hostel was just inside the original 14th-century gate which is a stones throw from the train station. Eager to lose our bags and hit the streets, we sped through the check-in process and did just that.

Craców was noticeably colder than Prague had been all year and while we had enough clothing it was still difficult to face the sharp menacing winds. Perhaps it was that fact that lent to the emptiness of the dark narrow streets that night. Although, I suppose folks could have been spending time with their families as well since it was literally the day after Christmas.

Regardless, we found an open restaurant and ducked in for some warm food...and cold beer. It was a Brazilian restaurant so I had some 'Brazilian' food and washed it down with a Polish beer called Zywiec. Not a great beer, but all shortcomings in taste were more than excused by the wicked label which depicted a Polish couple dancing a traditional dance in traditional clothing.

We crashed relatively early after a looong day traveling and this was the scene around 9am as I walked out of the hostel.

In the distance is the lovely St. Mary's Church in Craców's main square (Rynek Glówny). The square is the largest medieval square in all of Europe. Every hour a bugle call rings out from the highest tower of the church.

I was surprised to see how perfectly rebuilt Craców's Old Town was. I was quickly reminded, however, that the late Pope John Paul II called Craców home until he became the Pope. The castle (Wawel), Old Town and the Catholic churches are in superior condition these days.

This is in stark contrast to the old Jewish Quarter called Kazimierz, where many buildings are in disrepair. The handful of synagogues scattered throughout the area seemed uncomfortable, sort of on edge. As if they're waiting for something awful to happen. To my chagrin, anti-Semitic graffiti stained many walls in the area.

It wasn’t all bleak and gloomy, though, as this sign proves: