Another "how NOT to spend a day" post!
It started on a whim. I was staying in East Berlin and from my nearest station at Mahlsdorf, I could get a train directly to Poland. They ran approximately once every 2 hours and it seemed too good a chance to miss. I also had some ‘lives’ left on my inter-rail pass – so I decided to go for it. No planning, no thinking, just hop on a train to another country. Poland is in the EU so no need to worry about visas or anything?
The journey out was lovely, although I couldn’t help thinking that this was once enemy territory and that very different trains were clanking their way into Poland in the 1930s / 40s – less than 100 years ago. I found myself drifting from thinking about what it must have been like then to what it is now – and also looking for relics of the past – from the war era, though I had no idea what they might be. That is the thing about travel, it works on so many modalities. I am here on the train noticing the people around me. Here looking at the views outside the window. Here with my own thoughts and there with thoughts about the past and what it held.
Eventually, I just settled into enjoying the scenery as it flooded past.
After several stops at country stations we crossed gingerly over a creaky bridge and I noticed that the trackside signs in the German national colours changed to Polish on the far side. I was in a new country. I frantically looked around to see if things were any different – but as there had been little to see of towns on the journey so far – Poland itself looked much the same as what had gone before.
A short while (and a couple more creaky bridges) later we pulled into the station at Kostrzyn. The journey had taken less than 2 hours. I had decided to get another train from there to Potsdam and then try and do a circular trip back to Berlin – but I was also prepared to abandon this if I hit problems, not wanting to be stranded in Poland overnight. The whole thing had taken on the air of an adventure and things were going to go up a notch shortly!
When I got off the train at Kostrzyn, the first thing that struck me was the baffling Polish language. Of course, I was used to seeing Polish in the UK – but there it is a minor thing, usually with English alongside. Now I was totally abandoned to it. I worked out the word for exit and found myself going downstairs to find other platforms and tracks underground. It was a dual level station! I knew where I wanted to go in Poland and had noted the time of the train, but I had no idea which platform it was on or if I needed to make a reservation to catch it. I couldn’t work out from the array of numbers on the notices which related to platforms. But none of that really mattered as first stop for me (as always) was the toilet. It was when I arrived there that I realised my error.
The toilet needed to be paid for and the cost was 2.0 which I thought was expensive. Two euros to use the loo! Then it dawned on me. There was no euro sign. What the 2 meant was two złoty – the Polish currency. Poland is in the EU but does not use the Euro. I was in a country without its currency. Not one złoty to my name. I decided my bladder could be put on hold. I had to find out which platform my train was on.
I went to the ticket office – but there was a queue for the information desk which would probably take up much of the day. The queue for tickets was far less. I joined that. Whilst I was waiting – I heard a kerfuffle as a woman with a small child, tried to storm the information queue and was met with some resistance. She said in English (and then I guess in German) “but I just want to find my train.” Then she said a loud “fuck” before leaving. Nobody else seemed to notice. Surely “fuck” is recognisable in any language? Maybe not.
When my turn came at the counter, I was met by a stony-faced young woman and it was clear that nothing but fluent Polish was going to hack it. Speaking in English was met by a blank stare. I am not sure my attempt at German was comprehensible. I tried Google Translate – but the Polish it came back with was unpronounceable. I handed her my phone. She looked at it sullenly and handed it back – she then pointed to her till which said 35 złoty. No mention of the platform. I asked, only to be met with a frown. I was unsure if the 35 złoty was for the reservation but I didn’t want to pay it if I couldn’t find the train. In the end I walked away. I was resigned to getting the next train back to Germany – defeated by language and currency, as the clock nudged inevitably to the time of departure for Szczecin.
It was a little time later that I heard a train come into a platform somewhere. This must be it I thought – it was just a case of working out where the sound had come from. I was upstairs – there were no trains so I ran down the steps, (thankful that I had no luggage with me) and checked the underground platforms. Third time lucky, I threw myself on the train, uncertain if it was the right one. Unsure if I needed a reservation or even if my Interrail ticket would be accepted. Strangely (although I since found out that this is the norm in Poland), it was a compartment train – with many people standing in the corridor. After making use of the free toilet and knowing that my feet were unlikely to cope with the 2-hour journey, I found a compartment with three seats, opened the door and plonked myself down. I took the seat facing the direction of travel. Even with everything else that was going on for me, I hate travelling backwards! Immediately, the woman I had sat next to started to protest in Polish. I said (in English) that I didn’t understand – hoping she might be bi-lingual – but she just did the Polish equivalent of a Gallic shrug and went back to her puzzle book. A teenager opposite leaned over and said in perfect English, “don’t worry, she said the seat was reserved, but it isn’t she just doesn’t want a full compartment.” “Thanks” I replied, “do you know if I need a reservation to be here?” “Have you not got one?” she asked, surprised. “Sometimes the ticket inspectors will let you off – or you might be able to buy one from them. It should be okay.”
I settled back into my seat when the door slid open and a rather flustered woman with small child came in – the “fuck” woman from the ticket office! We exchanged pleasantries in English (she spoke this and German) and once the train had started to move I agreed to mind her bags whilst she took her daughter to the loo – not an easy journey as the “corridor” was packed. A little while later the ticket inspector came round and beamed at everyone whilst he looked at tickets and reservations. I showed my inter-rail pass and he beamed at me too, nothing else was asked for. So I enjoyed a two-hour journey to Szczecin… We sped through some beautiful countryside – a lot of it woodland and I realised that I could happily spend days if not weeks walking here. Is Poland another country that I should be including in my trip around the world?
When I got to Szczecin– I left the train and Mrs Fuck on their journey to Warsaw. Travelling to the capital was so tempting but would mean I would have to be in Poland overnight and the thought of trying to sort out accommodation at short notice after my time at the ticket office brought me to my senses. So I left the station in search of an ATM. First of all, I couldn’t find one on the station – but I could see from outside that there was a bus station nearby and thought there was bound to be one there. For once my instincts worked. I was pleased because not only was I needing the toilet again … (the story of my life unfortunately!) I also needed to eat. So after a brief wait in line – it was my turn: an ATM in Polish. Eventually I worked out a button to access other languages, but I couldn’t find English – so I hit French, being very conscious of the queue building behind me.
No problem with finding which button to extract money, but how much? Several options appeared and I pressed the lowest amount – not knowing how much I was going to receive. It turned out to be 1000 złoty which was almost £250 … all that for one meal and possibly the use of the toilet again. I found a café in the bus station which had pictures of all the meals (probably they were used for international bus travellers.) I ordered and went to use the toilet. For a bus-station café it was a good meal and I thought, “I know how to live.” I also decided that I was just going to make my way back the way I had come, I was getting too many things wrong here and felt out of my depth. I had been fortunate in getting on the right train at Kostrzyn and my luck might not hold out.
So my one day in Poland, boiled down to omelette and chips in a bus-station café!
The return journey was fairly uneventful. For some reason the train rather than being packed was quite empty and I was able to have a compartment to myself. The ticket inspector seemed happy enough with my pass and again I marvelled at the beautiful countryside I passed through. I had no problems recognising the train back to Germany and still felt that sense of “will we make it” when we travelled over that rickety bridge dividing the two countries. I got home safely, but the story didn’t end there.
A few days later, knowing I would have to move on from Berlin and not wanting to carry around 950 Polish złoty – I went to a currency exchange bureau at the main station in Berlin. When I did the calculations – I found that I had lost about £25 in fees and interest. Expensive for omelette and chips!
All photos by Steev except for the lead one (omelette) by Igor Miske via Unsplash. Thanks too to Kathryn Walker for the proof-reading!
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