Gdansk or Bust!

Ever since discovering this country’s train ticket buying website, I’ve longed to hear that ‘All Aboaaaard!’, scuttle onto a rail car and discover more of Poland.

You might remember that I had set my sights on Gdansk a couple of weeks back for the simple reason that it is closer than Krakow, Warsaw, Lublin or Poznan and does not require a train change.

Why specifically Krakow, Warsaw, Lublin and Poznan?

As a history buff and avid reader, I wanted to see for myself all of the places described in the novels written by Issac Bashevis Singer, a Nobel prize and National Book Award winner. The towns he describes so vividly all have long histories and a strong, multicultural heritage.

Yep, those sound like my kind of places!

But, for my initial trip, perhaps just a short hop to relatively nearby Gdansk.

Besides, Gdansk herself has plenty of history. For instance, in the early 1980s, it was the birthplace of the Solidarity Movement led by Lech Wałesa which was instrumental in ending communist rule in Poland.

The founder of the first non-government trade union, Mr Wałesa led his thousands of followers through non-violent resistance to promote workers’ rights and accelerate social change. 

The movement echoed throughout the then-called east-bloc countries, culminating in the fall of the Berlin Wall and the dissolution of Soviet Russia.  

OK, there’s enough history in Gdansk for me to sink my teeth into!

Incidentally, I later discovered that one block from the hotel I stayed at when I first arrived in Szczecin was where the dockworker uprising in this city happened. The workers encountered police and military who were armed to the teeth and decked out in riot gear.

While no dock worker raised a hand, plenty suffered blows and more than a few were incarcerated. Nevertheless, the resistance marched on... 

Szczecin today: as I wander around this fair city, I keep finding discreet plaques denoting historical events, yet should you wish to investigate those in more depth using online resources, there is precious little information to be had – let alone a map indicating where all of those events took place.

I guess that might validate my wanderings... no?

In any case; Gdansk.

When the idea first germinated, it was quelled by an invitation from my lovely friends Luisa and Ewelina... and by the thought that travelling with a painful, minimally functioning arm would be not much fun at all.

“Next week!” I vowed.

Next week saw the assassination of that city’s much-loved mayor, Paweł Adamowicz.

He was also an organizer of the 1988 strikes before actually heading up the Solidarity committee. He then went on to chair the Gdansk city council, slipping into the role of mayor a mere 10 years after the uprising, having taken 72% of the votes.

All while sending my condolences into the ether – who could I send them to, not knowing anyone in or related to Gdansk or him?, pragmatically, I thought that that might not be a good time to visit that city.

The week after, a massive funeral was held for him; millions arrived from all over Poland to attend.

He was indeed much loved and had a great turnout; I’m very happy about that.

What I’m not happy about is potentially not being able to get a hotel room; clearly, they would be all booked up!

We are now on week #3 of desiring to travel to Gdansk and the fortunes are shining on me!

No political assassinations rattling the city. I had wrapped up my lastest Superprof assignment over the weekend; no plans with friends and the only thing on my calendar are my language classes on Tuesday night.

Gdansk is a GO!!!

Nope, Gdansk is a bust.

A little after 10pm on Monday, there came a knock on my door. Odd! My downstairs neighbor, a tiny woman of burgundy-colored hair commenced to rapidly fire Polish at me.

Fortunately, I had learned to say ‘I’m sorry, I don’t understand’... Equally fortunately, she spoke a bit of German; she explained that I must have water running over because she is getting water marks on her ceiling.

She then proceeded into the bathroom to inspect and, finding no standing or running water, repaired to the kitchen, casting a critical eye all about.

Thank all the gods for the snap decision to wash dishes!

I do not do my dishes every day. To me, it seems wasteful to run a sinkful of water to wash one plate, one fork, and perhaps a couple of cooking utensils. Even worse: leave the water running while sponging them off with a bit of soap! Much better to accumulate a bit of washing and then proceed.

And, normally, I do my dishes after breakfast...

So it was quite fortunate that, this time, I did the dishes after my evening meal; just a couple of hours before she stormed up!   

Back in the bathroom we removed the bit of tile that concealed the water inlets and meters to find the cold water line spewing everywhere!

Note: hot and cold water is piped in separately by the city and each line is metered; consumers are charged for both the hot and cold water they use.

Contrast that endless supply of hot water with the mere 12 gallons (54 liters) of hot water I had at my disposal at any one time in China! 

Not quite patting ourselves on the back for our cleverness in figuring out where the water was leaking from but only just!, she then took the matter in hand.

That was a good thing, too, because my recourse would have been to call my landlady, who would have had to manage the affair remotely.

In short order, plumbers materialized – yes, that late at night! The next morning, so did a representative of the water management company. Lots of phone calls to the landlady, who approved all of the doings.

I wondered about payment: should I offer to lay out the cash and subtract it from next month’s rent? She beat me to the punch, asking that very thing. Naturally, I agreed.

The leak was detected on Monday; Tuesday is when the circus came to town.

Tuesday is also the day I have Polish language class and I had to emphasize that I needed to leave by 5:30.

The poor plumber, older and appearing to not especially fit was no doubt wearied by climbing all of those stairs. He puffed and panted his way through the job, occasionally having to go back down and up for a tool or part he needed.

He called it quits at 3PM with the repairs incomplete, stating he would be back the next day at 10.

Mind you, it wasn’t as bad as it could have been; I still had hot water. I could flush the toilet by using the overly long shower hose...

The trouble is that the water piped in by the city is so hot one risks scalding – clearly, a shower was out of the question. Even so much as a hair wash in the kitchen sink was inadvisable.

We are now into Wednesday. The plumber returned after 10 asking for money. I asked for a receipt and he said he didn’t have one.

Like you surely are, I’m a bit leery of handing over 500 in any currency without any proof that I’ve paid it and with work as yet incomplete. Another call to my dear landlady affirmed that that arrangement was acceptable.

I forked over the money and he disappeared, returning two hours later. 

As I write this it is nearly 1PM on Wednesday; the day I had intended on traveling.

Whether he will be done today or not is debatable but any plans I may have had for even going out – let alone traveling are quashed.

I’m not going anywhere with this greasy head! 

Update: shortly after typing all of this up, the handyman declared he was finished and invited me to inspect the bathroom.

Not only had he completely restored and retiled the wall but he cleaned up after himself, going so far as to appropriate my dustpan (without asking but who’s complaining?) and sweeping up the debris!

Another happy event: I met another of my neighbors who could speak fairly good German.

He advised me to come to him with any future problems regarding the apartment and then told me to get in the shower (after they left, naturally!)

So maybe I won’t go to Gdansk this week, either. But I did get to interact with some of my neighbors and that makes me feel far less isolated.

Maybe I should be thankful that pipe burst?