October 31st: Warsaw
Poland in the Autumn is a sight to see! Warsaw sure is fortunate to have so many lovely parks. Mokotowskie was the perfect spot to stroll through the leaves and take it all in as I arrived in the capitol city. From the other side it was just a quick bus ride to my lodging.
The first thing to grab my attention upon arriving in the neighborhood was the Monument to the Soldiers of the Peasant Battalions and the People’s Union of Women. Unveiled in 2019, it has a very mixed reputation, with some people feeling like it is more akin to a Soviet monument than something modern. Honestly, it was my assumption that it came from the earlier era. What I thought was a wing is actually a giant head of grain rising from the fighting peasants, attesting to their hardworking “salt of the earth” mentality. I like it myself, with the fighters looking both terrified and determined, conveying the cost of the sacrifice these brave folks made in rising up to fight the Nazi oppressors.
From there it was a relatively short walk to the Warsaw Uprising Mound, a hill constructed entirely from the rubble of old Warsaw. By the end of the war, nearly 90% of the city had been destroyed. The proud Poles immediately got to work rebuilding it, salvaging what they could brick-by-brick to reconstruct the devastated ruins. What was left over from the rubble ended up piled high into this miniature, man-made mountain. At its peak stands a monument to the Warsaw Uprising, a heroic, doomed struggle that I delved deeper into at the end of my journey when I visited the Warsaw Rising museum.
The destruction of Warsaw was not just the collateral damage of battle but, rather, a deliberate punishment inflicted upon the city by the Nazis, who systematically leveled the entire city after the revolt. We are fortunate to have it reborn from the ashes.
The next morning I made my way through Łazienki Park, with its palaces and statues attesting to the centuries of Warsaw’s history. It also has a flock of peacocks that add a lovely royal flair to the scene. I didn’t see any of those wonderful long-eared Polish squirrels this time like I did on my first visit, but I didn’t get to enjoy the leaves when I strolled through the park in late November of 2022.
It was November 1st, and for Poles (and Catholics in general) that means All Saints Day, where everyone goes to the graveyards and lights candles for the Saints and dearly departed. As the sun began to set I made my way to the massive sprawl of Powązki Cemetery, which covers an area of 110 acres. Established in 1790, it houses the graves of many famous Poles, including composer Stanisław Moniuszko, whose work I chose to highlight for my exploration of the old cemetery.
I visited the grave of Poland’s most famous and beloved filmmaker Krzysztof Kieślowski, who died tragically young at 55 from the aftermath of a heart attack. His grave features the classic two handed “frame” of a filmmaker envisioning his shot. It was moving to see the esteem Poles still hold him in, with his grave being one of the most illuminated of my visit. I almost wished I’d brought a candle for the great artist myself, although it would have been hard to squeeze another one in.
The next day I made my way to the main train station, but not before grabbing a cheap but filling breakfast at a local milkbar, Poland’s classic working class restaurants left over from Soviet times. As I was about to leave for the station I realized I’d kept my room keys and had to quickly double back to my room. Thank goodness I figured it out before I caught the train!
The Palace of Culture and Science was the first, proto-brutalist skyscraper on Poland’s horizon, but now it is surrounded by modern glass behemoths. They say Warsaw is going to be the skyscraper capital of Europe. It is a fascinating contrast to the rebuilt old-town. Warsaw is truly a modern metropolis comparable to any great modern city. I enjoy discovering a new side to it every time I visit. I will be back again at the end of this journey to explore more.
November 2nd: Pabianice
I arrived in Pabianice on November 2nd, just in time to see the Evangelical and Catholic cemeteries lit up for All Souls Day. My first trip to Pabianice two years prior I stayed in the hotel directly across the street from them, and got up and wandered through on a misty morning. I was familiar enough with the massive sprawl to know it would be a beautiful sea of lights this time, and was not disappointed.
My 5th great-grandparents arrived in Pabianice around 200 years ago, leaving their small Pomeranian villages for the city life. We weren’t destined to settle here, moving to southeastern Ukraine with a wave of Germanic expats hoping to escape the chaos of war during my 4th great-grandfather’s childhood.
The Jewish population was much deeper rooted in old Pabianice. They were the hardworking underclass, making a life in the old town, mostly working in the booming textile industry. As the small town grew to a city, so did their number. By the early 20th century they comprised 18% of the Pabianice’s 35,000+ residents. In 1880 a brick synagogue was built and a cemetery was consecrated.
Today a storage lot stands where the synagogue once stood but the cemetery remains. And that is all that is left of the Jewish culture here. Unless you count the ghosts… and the Stars of David the local soccer teams’ hooligans use to insult each other as they piss their names and insults on every available surface.
Despite the horrors of seeing such hate and stupidity scrawled around, I can’t help but love the place. That feeling of old distant roots in my genetic memory is inescapable. There is beauty to be found, and even the sooty, haunted ghetto streets have a dark, old-world charm. It is a place that still is trying to reckon with its past, with projects underway to highlight the Jewish history. When I was at the Jewish graveyard a whole tour group showed up; I wish I could have understood what the guide was telling them.
As I departed the Pabianice Jewish cemetery I heard a cat’s meows, and up walked an absolute sweety. It was just the good medicine I needed after that somber stroll through the old graveyard. I’m not sure if it was the same cat I met when I first arrived in town or not, but this time they decided to be a real pal and crawl right up on my lap.
The next day I got myself together and left for a 3 part journey to Toruń, or at least that was the idea. Normally it would have been a 3 train journey, but, because of the construction mess at Łódź Kaliska station, they’d replaced the middle train with a bus. Unfortunately they didn’t make it at all clear where to catch said bus, and, because the construction affected the route to the bus station next to the train station, I ended up missing it.
Forget this, I said, and rather than a repeat of that mess (I hate long busses) I killed 2 1/2 hours in central soccer-hooligan territory and waited for the next direct train.
I was shocked to see the anti-Semitic graffiti reach a new nadir there, but not surprised, considering the giant ŁKS stadium was the main attraction. Colorful murals depicted ŁKS literally lynching RTS players with Jewish stars on their shirts. From my prior research into this nightmare I knew that one of the teams had actually burned Jewish effigies of the other in recent years. Why not celebrate such awfulness with a colorful cartoon?
November 4th: Toruń
Thankfully I finally escaped the hooligan vortex successfully and found myself in beautiful old Toruń for the first time. Supposedly I *may* have a sister 7x removed born there, according to a family tree on Ancestry.com. Hard to say. Regardless, the beautiful old medieval town had been on my bucket list for a while now, and it didn’t disappoint.
First settled in the 8th century and then expanded to its classic layout by the Teutonic Knights in the 12th, the old-town is almost entirely intact still.
The main casualty is the old 14th century castle, although for a change this cannot be blamed on WWII but rather the struggles between the Teutonic Order and The Prussian Confederation. Founded by local gentry who were sick of the ruthlessness of the Teutonic Knights’ control, the Confederation led a rebellion in 1454 that drove the knights out, and then demolished the castle so they would have nothing to return to to reconquer and occupy. Partially rebuilt in 1966, its ruins stand as a testament to Poland’s centuries of conflict.
These days the landmark that dominates Toruń’s central visage is the cathedral of Saint John, which surprised and delighted me with a 14th century icon of Mary Magdalene getting held aloft by angels in her full hair-suit – a bizarre medieval crossover legend with Saint Mary of Egypt, and a direct tie-in/spin-off of the Southern France legends that inspired the nonsense of The DaVinci Code. The carving work is simply stunning, depicting Saint Mary in full sasquatch glory….
Toruń’s most famous son is Nicolaus Copernicus. Unfortunately I missed my chance to visit his old house, which serves as a museum now. I did manage to catch up with another haunt of his in Olsztyn Castle a few days later.
There’s no real way to prepare yourself for the lay and flow of a medieval town, no typical grid to triangulate off of. Your best bet is to find a few familiar sites and see how lost you get before you end up coming full circle. Toruń has a special way of making an ass out of you, but the secret seems to be acknowledging the old donkey directly. One mustn’t be too quick to dismiss the blessed charge an animal spirit cast in bronze can impart…
Sometime later at night or early in the morning I tilted a bit as I walked up the stairs that lead to the 2nd story of the town’s leaning tower. The steep winding stairwell of my lodging had dissuaded me from doing any drinking, but I still kinda got the spins for a second there, trying to find an equilibrium to what I was looking at. I’m sure there’s an old story to why the tower leans, at this point it’s become a deliberate adaptation, with the top two stories tiered out and creating overhangs below.
It was a bit before this a woman attempted to lure me into a new VIP club with ample drinks and dancing girls. But those death stairs back home just didn’t make the prospect appealing. Later in a dedicated Death Stairs group I shared that story with the stairs pics and was told I dodged a few bullets, given that being invited to a strip club is a particularly noteworthy way to scam a single dude these days…
The next morning I grabbed some cash and went to the record store to grab Polish new-wavers Maanam’s elusive 3rd album and Britsh post-punk pioneers Magazine’s first album.
I also went and grabbed a few cheap gingerbread bites, my favorite being marmalade-filled. Paddington would no doubt approve, his 3rd movie ready to dominate Polish screens at week’s end…
I had to make my way into at least one more beautiful old-town church before departing, and it was the mid-18th-century baroque beauty The Church of the Holy Spirit that welcomed me in. Originally erected as a Lutheran church, it has that fascinating combination of Protestant-austerity and subtle delicacy, overlaid with demure but dominant Catholic iconography. The most impressive details to my eyes were the easiest to gloss over, with scenes lightly carved into the surface layer of the woodwork only revealing themselves to one willing to focus on the textures of the wood itself.
Later as I wandered out of the town and down to the riverside I reflected on how small old Toruń felt. It was a strange day. Donald Trump had just been re-elected back home and I was rather disgusted by society in general. It was probably for the best I was in another land – that had been the plan all along. Still, it felt as if the medieval walls were beginning to close in. I was ready for a place with just a bit more breathing room… onwards to Bydgoszcz!
For a more in depth look at Pabianice’s ghetto, soccer hooligans, and my family roots there and in Eastern Europe, check out this post I wrote in 2023 and finally whipped into publishable shape:
Here’s a bit more of a wrap-around story to that 2022 saga:
Here’s the complete 2024 journey in one handy playlist:
Brian Hildebrand Land 
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