Choo choo.
One of the trains I’d planned to have a go on in Poland was the more modern Intercity train between Warsaw and Białystok, and my initial reservation for Monday’s journey from Krakóv included that. They have a nice first class with individual seats and even a restaurant car of sorts, but if I’d wanted to get one today it would have had to be the Zamenhof and, much as I’ve been enjoying the whole pilgrimage, I’ve not been enjoying it enough to warrant getting the 05:00 service. Instead, I ended up on an older train in one of those compartments of six.
In the morning I had one final wander around Białystok and said my goodbyes to various bits I’ve enjoyed seeing every day for the last week. On my way to return keys, I took puppet to have a look at the Puppet Theatre, then had lunch and caffeine with lucky Host who gets to see the Girl With A Watering Can from his kitchen window. I called a Bolt to take me to the station rather than heave myself there under the sun, and while we waited talked about the little concrete constructions dotted around the residential area he lives. I thought these were access cabinets for utilities companies, but it turns out that they’re actually Cold War remnants and entry points for residential bunkers to keep the population safe during a US invasion. He rolled his eyes as he told me that, the irony of the present-day volte-face clearly not lost.
The Saint Petersburg to Warsaw Railway was built in the 19th-century to connect the Russian Empire to Central Europe. Construction started in Saint Petersburg in 1853 and after many stages of construction through countries now in the European Union, the first traffic along the route started running in December 1862. The station in Białystok was opened in 1861 and has been destroyed and rebuilt twice since, once by retreating troops, once by advancing troops. The most recent renovations of the station building were completed in 2003 and it was considered to be the most beautiful station in the country, although I still the the old station in Kraków is a bit better. Inside it’s very bright and airy but there’s no access to the platforms through the building itself as major construction work is currently under way to welcome high-speed trains.
There is much work on the single track section between Biaĺystok and Warsaw and trains waiting to depart have to to wait until the other arrives before it can depart. If the incoming train is delayed, there’s little to do except be patient. It’s hard to begrudge that, really, and so when the 14:10 service to Warsaw left Białystok at 14:48, just a few minutes after the train coming from Warsaw pulled in at the ajdacent platform, we were all in good spirits in our cosy compartment of six. I had a window seat for the two hours and thirty-eight minutes of sunshine. I went too soon on the snacks, eating the muesli bar before we’d even left the station, but there was trolley service so I got to munch on some crisps for some of the way.
I felt very dangerous and rebellious walking across tracks to reach my train.
I neither cared nor knew how late we pulled into Warsaw because the journey was a pretty one, and Poland is lush and green. For two hours I sat and pined — inwardly, so as not to annoy my friendly fellow passengers — knowing that in little more than a week, all this will be over and I’ll have only photographs and sore feet to remind me of two months of escapism. Every now and then, a glimpse of someone else’s reality would slide past to distract those gazing from their window seats; the two lads sitting on the rails having a fag, the construction worker having a crafty nap in the back of the truck, the dog-walker. All of them doing something different from us, just for a second.
As we approached Warszawa Wschodnia the skyline became very different. Field after field were progressively replaced with the familiar sight of concrete, and the silhouette of the Palace of Culture and Science was unmistakable, even nestled among its newer siblings. I became very excited to be somewhere new(ish) again. After some pottering, I figured out the trams (super-cheap) and rode to the stop nearest the Warsaw Uprising museum to find my bed for the night.
When I got to my hostel, I learned that my reservation from hotels.com hadn’t made it to them and, to add insult to injury, there was no room at the inn. While the latter was not good news, it did quickly eliminate the possibility that it might be a scam. I thought it dreadful that my mind should go there first, but the whole experience was rather inconvenient, and in haste my imagination provided multiple scenarios to get me through it. In the end, it was the people in the hostel who mitigated the horror and could not have been nicer. They provided coffee, profuse apologies, and conversation, while an obsequious person from a call-centre made tediously half-hearted and drawn-out efforts to find alternative accommodation that seemed more designed to fulfil their profit requirements than my needs (“I have one ten kilometres away from where you are, is that ok?”). Ultimately I gave up at the second hurdle — somewhere closer for which they didn’t have an up-to-date number — and asked for a refund, determined to sort the problem myself. I think this was their preferred solution all along. I think I’ll just go back to booking places direct.
I was rescued by one of the Esperantists I met on Saturday — not one of the group who climbs every mountain — who arranged for me to stay with her parents in a lovely leafy suburb out of Warsaw. She found me and collected me from my acceptable-but-not-amazing Beyond Meat experience at Vegan Burger, just as they were closing. From there we had a metro ride to my bed for the next two nights where I set about making alternative arrangements for onward travel. I had planned to spend only two nights in Warsaw (lessons tomorrow) and then move on but this is now under reconsideration.
My movements are now severely limited by the expiry date of my pass, which is May 3rd. Lille looks likely.
