Travel Notes: Gdańsk - Day 3
2025-03-22 11:18 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rodoTitle: Travel Notes: Gdańsk
Author:rodo
Chapter: 3/5
Length: 1380 words
Rating: 6+
Genre: travelogue
A/N: feel free to read; I wrote this mainly for myself, to better remember my time in Gdańsk
Summary: In the summer of 2024, I found myself with time and money to spend, and on short notice, decided to visit Gdańsk, a city I’d never been to, but had always wanted to see. Here, you can read all about my trip – the boring and hopefully not so boring details, illustrated by a couple of photos.
Day 3: Tuesday, 30th of July 2024: Something New(ish)
I woke up at a quarter to six. Again. I had done so the day before as well, and I was wondering why. It wasn’t the bells – those didn’t start until later and they tended to ring for every full hour, not in between. I vaguely remembered things being like that at home as well, when I was younger, but at some point, things had changed, and church bells no longer cut my day into neat little pieces. They still ring, but I no longer hear them these days. I took my time with breakfast (I tried the crepe-like things filled with fresh cheese this time) and getting ready, girding my damaged toes with half of one of the two packages of blister band-aids that I’d brought. In the end, I left a little late.
For this day, I wanted to try something a little different. I’d come to Gdańsk for the medieval architecture, but I didn’t feel like braving the crowds of the market that morning. So I went in the opposite direction. I found my target pretty much immediately, although to be fair, it is hard to miss since it looks like the giant, rusty hull of a ship (one of the rare examples of modern architecture that I actually like) that lies in the shipyard like a beached whale: The European Solidarity Center.
If the name leads you to believe it to be all about the warm fuzziness of being part of the EU – it’s not. Solidarity, in this case, refers to something a bit more specific than standing together with your fellow men, although that is why it’s called that in a roundabout way. In German, we tend to use the Polish name: Solidarność – the most famous union of the world, and part of the resistance against communism in Poland. It began more or less where the museum is located: in the Lenin Shipyard at Gdańsk.
Despite setting out late, I was still a tad too early for the museum to open, so I sat down in the shade of a monument dedicated to workers who died in an unsuccessful uprising in 1970 before walking around the area for a bit – this part of Gdańsk also contained some historical buildings, but on the whole, it was far more industrial and functional than the area around the basilica.
When it opened, I bought myself a ticket and went into the permanent exhibition. If you have been to a museum dedicated to modern history, you might have seen something similar before. To me, it resembled the Zeitgenössische Forum in Leipzig (dedicated to the GDR years in the city), but with a somewhat narrower focus. Many exhibits were more “hands on” than in traditional museums, with a lot of video and audio documenting the rise and fall (and rise) of the union, and that was sometimes used to chilling effect, for example with a police transport car in the middle of a room, or music written during the protests playing.
Walking past the rows of photos of people who had fought for a better future what felt like a lifetime (mine, to be precise) ago, it was a bit alienating to think that all these people whose photos I kept seeing were around my parents’ generation, or maybe a little older. A little boy seemed to have a similar problem when it came to envisioning the march of time. He stood in front of a row of portraits and loudly proclaimed “All these people are dead!” in English, with the kind of surety only small children possess. His father tried to argue, but he was getting nowhere. When I stood in the same place, I was especially amused to note that the person whose photo had been right in front of the boy was still very much alive: Lech Wałęsa – one of the few persons featured in the exhibition who I already knew of, a former president of Poland and one of the leaders of Solidarność.
At the end of the exhibition, there’s a giant wall where people can write a message on a piece of paper and hang it with the others, in the form of a Solidarność logo (probably the coolest logo a union has ever had). I did so, although I couldn’t think of anything profound (but then again, neither could many of the others that I read), then headed to the gift shop, where I bought myself a slightly tacky Solidarność mug that would look right at home next to my Keep Calm And Carry On one, then left to rest my feet a little at the hotel.
When I left the hotel again in the afternoon, I didn’t have a plan, so I spontaneously decided to walk back towards the city centre via a different route. I walked east, hoping to find the Motława, but ended up a little lost. I did find the very shiny monument to the fallen postmen at the beginning of World War II, then walked further, struggling with a combination of allergies, the heat and the humidity. I could practically smell the brackish water in the air by then and did find the Motława soon after.
I had considered maybe taking a tour to the Westerplatte (where there’s another monument to the defenders in WWII) but decided against it. I just didn’t feel like it. Instead, I walked across a different section of St. Dominic’s Fair. It was the culinary one, with lots of national and international cuisines offering street food. I ended up at a stall that read something like “Kuchnia ukraińska”, which I gathered to mean “Ukrainian food”. It offered something called “czeburek”, and there was a vegetarian option (mushrooms and cheese), so I decided to chance it. Czeburek turned out to be a giant, deep-fried turnover and very delicious, despite the simplicity. I ate it sitting on a meadow next to a merry-go-round that I was definitely too old for, even though I wished I wasn’t. The children seemed to be having a lot of fun.
After eating I lazily walked back towards the hotel, taking a long detour for shopping. There were, of course, stalls that I gave a pass. Churros unfortunately aren’t something I can eat, even if I’d wanted to for ages and this was my first time seeing them offered anywhere. The stall selling compasses was beautiful, but I couldn’t justify the purchase of one. None of the soaps at the soap stalls smelled quite right, and I didn’t need a souvenir to remember the Polish postal service. The clothes weren’t quite my style either, although I was tempted by the Kashubian embroidery. I did buy some other things, though:
1. A ring made of (green) amber and silver, because I just couldn’t visit one of the centres of the amber industry and leave without any. It was hard to pick one from all the many, many, many different trinkets on offer.
2. Three incredibly tacky Christmas tree ornaments. There was just one stall selling them, and they were all so terribly kitschy that I just couldn’t pass up the chance to buy some. I’m something of an aficionado, and my mother still shakes her head when I pull out the Christmas pickle (because she isn’t one for silly American traditions). I overpaid because I may have communicated that the change was supposed to be a tip (or the guy pretended that’s what happened), but I wasn’t too fussed.
3. In a Żabka, I bought myself a bottle of one of my favourite soft drinks, which can be hard to get in Germany, and only as an import: Pepsi Max Mango. There were a lot of soft drinks there, as you’d imagine. Żabka is a convenience store chain, and there’s one of them on seemingly every corner in Gdańsk.
Finally, I exchanged some more money at a Kantor – I’d gone through so much, the rest wouldn’t suffice for one more day. And then I went back – the weather was a bit too much, it was too late to start much of anything, my blisters were starting to hurt quite a bit, and I was covered in a very unpleasant sheen of sweat and sun cream that I was desperate to wash off.
Previous Chapter: Day 2: Monday, 29th of July 2024: Getting Started | Next chapter: Day 4: Wednesday, 31th of July 2024: A Walk and Another Museum
The Chapters
Day 1: Sunday, 28th of July 2024: All is well… | Day 2: Monday, 29th of July 2024: Getting Started | Day 3: Tuesday, 30th of July 2024: Something New(ish) | Day 4: Wednesday, 31st of July 2024: A Walk and Another Museum | Day 5: Thursday, 1st of August 2024: … That Ends Well
Author:
rodoChapter: 3/5
Length: 1380 words
Rating: 6+
Genre: travelogue
A/N: feel free to read; I wrote this mainly for myself, to better remember my time in Gdańsk
Summary: In the summer of 2024, I found myself with time and money to spend, and on short notice, decided to visit Gdańsk, a city I’d never been to, but had always wanted to see. Here, you can read all about my trip – the boring and hopefully not so boring details, illustrated by a couple of photos.
I woke up at a quarter to six. Again. I had done so the day before as well, and I was wondering why. It wasn’t the bells – those didn’t start until later and they tended to ring for every full hour, not in between. I vaguely remembered things being like that at home as well, when I was younger, but at some point, things had changed, and church bells no longer cut my day into neat little pieces. They still ring, but I no longer hear them these days. I took my time with breakfast (I tried the crepe-like things filled with fresh cheese this time) and getting ready, girding my damaged toes with half of one of the two packages of blister band-aids that I’d brought. In the end, I left a little late.
For this day, I wanted to try something a little different. I’d come to Gdańsk for the medieval architecture, but I didn’t feel like braving the crowds of the market that morning. So I went in the opposite direction. I found my target pretty much immediately, although to be fair, it is hard to miss since it looks like the giant, rusty hull of a ship (one of the rare examples of modern architecture that I actually like) that lies in the shipyard like a beached whale: The European Solidarity Center.
If the name leads you to believe it to be all about the warm fuzziness of being part of the EU – it’s not. Solidarity, in this case, refers to something a bit more specific than standing together with your fellow men, although that is why it’s called that in a roundabout way. In German, we tend to use the Polish name: Solidarność – the most famous union of the world, and part of the resistance against communism in Poland. It began more or less where the museum is located: in the Lenin Shipyard at Gdańsk.
Despite setting out late, I was still a tad too early for the museum to open, so I sat down in the shade of a monument dedicated to workers who died in an unsuccessful uprising in 1970 before walking around the area for a bit – this part of Gdańsk also contained some historical buildings, but on the whole, it was far more industrial and functional than the area around the basilica.
When it opened, I bought myself a ticket and went into the permanent exhibition. If you have been to a museum dedicated to modern history, you might have seen something similar before. To me, it resembled the Zeitgenössische Forum in Leipzig (dedicated to the GDR years in the city), but with a somewhat narrower focus. Many exhibits were more “hands on” than in traditional museums, with a lot of video and audio documenting the rise and fall (and rise) of the union, and that was sometimes used to chilling effect, for example with a police transport car in the middle of a room, or music written during the protests playing.
Walking past the rows of photos of people who had fought for a better future what felt like a lifetime (mine, to be precise) ago, it was a bit alienating to think that all these people whose photos I kept seeing were around my parents’ generation, or maybe a little older. A little boy seemed to have a similar problem when it came to envisioning the march of time. He stood in front of a row of portraits and loudly proclaimed “All these people are dead!” in English, with the kind of surety only small children possess. His father tried to argue, but he was getting nowhere. When I stood in the same place, I was especially amused to note that the person whose photo had been right in front of the boy was still very much alive: Lech Wałęsa – one of the few persons featured in the exhibition who I already knew of, a former president of Poland and one of the leaders of Solidarność.
At the end of the exhibition, there’s a giant wall where people can write a message on a piece of paper and hang it with the others, in the form of a Solidarność logo (probably the coolest logo a union has ever had). I did so, although I couldn’t think of anything profound (but then again, neither could many of the others that I read), then headed to the gift shop, where I bought myself a slightly tacky Solidarność mug that would look right at home next to my Keep Calm And Carry On one, then left to rest my feet a little at the hotel.
When I left the hotel again in the afternoon, I didn’t have a plan, so I spontaneously decided to walk back towards the city centre via a different route. I walked east, hoping to find the Motława, but ended up a little lost. I did find the very shiny monument to the fallen postmen at the beginning of World War II, then walked further, struggling with a combination of allergies, the heat and the humidity. I could practically smell the brackish water in the air by then and did find the Motława soon after.
I had considered maybe taking a tour to the Westerplatte (where there’s another monument to the defenders in WWII) but decided against it. I just didn’t feel like it. Instead, I walked across a different section of St. Dominic’s Fair. It was the culinary one, with lots of national and international cuisines offering street food. I ended up at a stall that read something like “Kuchnia ukraińska”, which I gathered to mean “Ukrainian food”. It offered something called “czeburek”, and there was a vegetarian option (mushrooms and cheese), so I decided to chance it. Czeburek turned out to be a giant, deep-fried turnover and very delicious, despite the simplicity. I ate it sitting on a meadow next to a merry-go-round that I was definitely too old for, even though I wished I wasn’t. The children seemed to be having a lot of fun.
After eating I lazily walked back towards the hotel, taking a long detour for shopping. There were, of course, stalls that I gave a pass. Churros unfortunately aren’t something I can eat, even if I’d wanted to for ages and this was my first time seeing them offered anywhere. The stall selling compasses was beautiful, but I couldn’t justify the purchase of one. None of the soaps at the soap stalls smelled quite right, and I didn’t need a souvenir to remember the Polish postal service. The clothes weren’t quite my style either, although I was tempted by the Kashubian embroidery. I did buy some other things, though:
1. A ring made of (green) amber and silver, because I just couldn’t visit one of the centres of the amber industry and leave without any. It was hard to pick one from all the many, many, many different trinkets on offer.
2. Three incredibly tacky Christmas tree ornaments. There was just one stall selling them, and they were all so terribly kitschy that I just couldn’t pass up the chance to buy some. I’m something of an aficionado, and my mother still shakes her head when I pull out the Christmas pickle (because she isn’t one for silly American traditions). I overpaid because I may have communicated that the change was supposed to be a tip (or the guy pretended that’s what happened), but I wasn’t too fussed.
3. In a Żabka, I bought myself a bottle of one of my favourite soft drinks, which can be hard to get in Germany, and only as an import: Pepsi Max Mango. There were a lot of soft drinks there, as you’d imagine. Żabka is a convenience store chain, and there’s one of them on seemingly every corner in Gdańsk.
Finally, I exchanged some more money at a Kantor – I’d gone through so much, the rest wouldn’t suffice for one more day. And then I went back – the weather was a bit too much, it was too late to start much of anything, my blisters were starting to hurt quite a bit, and I was covered in a very unpleasant sheen of sweat and sun cream that I was desperate to wash off.
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