If you are a loyal reader of my travel tales, you most certainly are aware of the fact that I love the adventure that travel brings. To explore a new area, to visit an exotic place I read about as a child, to stand at some historic location – they all fill me with awe and wonder.
But travel – unescorted travel in particular – has its trepidations as well. Lost in a Moroccan souk, a wild taxi ride on India’s unregulated roads, or a bad case of food poisoning in Cambodia can cause a great deal of concern.
Often after I speak to a group I am asked if I have ever felt unsafe on any of my trips. As a rule I can answer “no” to this question, but there have been times and places that I was glad to get away from. Perhaps the most unsettling experience occurred in Warsaw, Poland, a few short weeks after the Berlin Wall came tumbling down. Let me tell you about it.
Our choice of travel locations was a bit of a gamble to begin with. Less than a few months before it was impossible to travel behind the Iron Curtain without an assigned local tour guide. But then as the wall fell and the desire for hard currency was rampant, many of the Soviet-controlled countries were receptive to unsupervised travel. Naturally this challenge was there to be taken, and a trip was scheduled.
We left West Berlin on a train early one morning. The German train, as one would expect, was neat as a pin, and, of course, left on the second it was scheduled to do so. There was a short stop as we crossed into East Germany, and visas, passports, and other travel documents were examined. The ensuing countryside reminded me of my early years in Michigan – fairly flat with some low rolling hills covered with rows of growing crops. The ride was pleasant through East Germany, and the border crossing into Poland was generally painless. In both countries a long-time bureaucrat made sure we recognized his status by carrying on a detailed inspection of all of our travel documents. Nevertheless we arrived in Warsaw in the late afternoon on a somewhat dismal, gloomy day.
Prior to our visit, Barb had worked on a few Polish phrases (with a shop-owner in Danville.) Expressions such as “please, thank you” and “where is the nearest bathroom?”, but little else. Our plan was to stay in Warsaw for five days and then take a train down to Krakow. Being in the train station at our arrival, we decided it would be easy to purchase the Krakow tickets then and there. Easier said than done! At that time there was no English spoken at all. We tried communicating with the ticket agent by pointing at maps, spelling out our destination, and all of this included a great deal of arm waving. It became apparent that we were becoming the butt of a great joke to the agents as they jabbered among themselves, pointed at us, and laughed a great deal. It’s not much fun being laughed at, but eventually we did get a couple of tickets to Krakow some five days later.
Next on to our hotel. At the exit to the train station stood a long line of taxis. We had been repeatedly warned to use only cabs with meters, and the first cab to pull up was “void the box.” We politely told him we would wait for a cab with a meter. I might point out that we had exchanged US dollars for Polish zlotys, but we were still a bit uncertain as to the conversion rates. The undeterred driver said he would take us to our hotel for an amount he named. The amount now slips my mind but it converted to about $10 US. I once again declined. Then, in passable English, I was told “Rich, cheap Americans keep your $&%*^ money. I don’t want it anyway.” At this point he drove off. I must admit that our trip to Poland didn’t appear to be off to a great start.
Our hotel, the Forum, was lovely. The view from our room showed us the Palace of Culture and Science that contained the old Communist party headquarters, but we understand they are now empty. The forty-two storied building was modeled after the Moscow State University building in, of course, Moscow. (Sidebar: We visited the building later in our trip because we thought the view would be spectacular, only to find the elevators were not working and there was no way up but to walk. We passed.) The food was quite acceptable, and we did begin to relax a bit. Then came the final straw.
On the Saturday afternoon of our final day in Warsaw, we wandered a bit off the beaten track and found a market. There were vegetable sections, tools in another spot, some furniture – all of the things you would expect, plus a little more. In one area there were a dozen wooden huts, about six feet by four feet. As we watched, men would wander up, knock on the door, a female face would pop out, some dialog would ensue, a handshake, and into the hut they would go.
We tried not to be obvious, but did watch a bit – but then came the frightening realization that we were being set-up. A very large, stocking-capped man had been following behind us for some ten to fifteen minutes. I saw him make a sign with his hands, and a similar guy about ten yards to our left responded. I glanced to my right and there, sure enough, was a third man. I told Barb, and we began to execute a series of turns and backtracks, but we were followed during each one. Too scary to stick around – we moved out at a run – in fact it was a race. Us or them? Running even faster we were able to get back to the main street and also find our hotel.
I’m sure life is much different there now. The time and the circumstances have changed dramatically. We loved the surrounding areas of Warsaw, and Krakow will always be a favorite European city. We were treated well in Krakow, but that first trip to Poland has remained as one of the most frightening of them all.
