Cracking Krakow
This was less anticipated than the grand buildings and great squares, cobbled streets and trams, which tend to enthral. Yes, kebabs, McDonald's and Irish pubs are two-a-penny in the great cities of central Europe nowadays, but I have never seen so many kebab queues in my life. Young Krakovians seem to like nothing better than to tuck into a sandwiched spread of sliced, spiced lamb meat day or night.
This was just one of the surprises Krakow had in store. There were others, too, more pleasant but just as strange. There was a birthday trip into the nether world of a salt mine, where, along with the labyrinthine tunnels, the miners had hewn for themselves not one, not two, but three chapels cut into the white rock. And there was the well-dressed restaurant dog complete with bow tie. I asked why, but didn't get much of a response. Never mind.
The food in Krakow (kebabs aside) rated high on the surprise scale for this first-time visitor. I was expecting the monotony of stews and dumplings served in the Czech Republic, or the Hungarian habit of frying everything and serving double portions. But in Krakow you can dine like a king without having to pay his ransom.
The most famous restaurant in town is Wierzynek, on a corner of Rynek Glowny, Krakow's main square, the largest in medieval Europe and the pulsing heart of the city. While we people-watched from our romantic window table on the first floor, our faces bathed in candle light and our eyes flickering to take in the rich wall tapestries, the attentive, unobtrusive staff anticipated our every need.
The menu was meat-heavy: fowl, pheasant, tripe, pork, steak, lamb and duck, cooked in a variety of ways. You could have fish if you fancied pickled herring, that is.
During our four-day trip we feasted heartily, washing down our meals with plenty of vodka, wine and Polish beer. Afterwards, it was off to explore the bars tucked into Krakow's cellars, where we found characters even more eccentric than the smartly dressed dog. One such fellow was a bearded young man who, late in the night, leapt up on his bar stool to deliver a passionate speech. We thought it a political treatise until we distinctly heard the word Metallica. Complicitly, the barmaid rummaged around the CDs and before long the place was vibrating to the thrash of heavy metal. The young man went into a frenzy of head-banging, and, all things considered, we thought it only polite to join in.
By day, compact Krakow is ideally explored on foot. It's easily as impressive as Prague: every time you turn a corner, you discover a treat. Stare Miasto is the old town. Its winding tentacles spread out from the Rynek Glowny, and amid the cafes, restaurants and bars is the city's medieval cloth market. The Sukiennice is a splendid sight, but once inside the covered market, it's disappointingly full of tourist tat. But do look upstairs in the art gallery, with its collection of 19th-century Polish art, including Jan Matejko's Prussian Homage and Kosciusko at Raclawice, depicting the peasant army's victory over Russia in 1794.
The biggest draw in Krakow for Poles and foreigners alike is Wawel Hill, south of the Stare Miasto. For more than 500 years, Poland's rulers lived and governed from here, and the cathedral and castle still dominate the hilltop. In the former, go and see Groby Krolewskie, the royal tombs. For a handful of zlotys, you can descend into the burial chamber holding all, bar four, of Poland's 45 monarchs. The tomb of King Wladyslaw the Short (1306-1333) is the oldest in the cathedral crypt. The atmosphere is austere and even creepy, but fascinating nonetheless.
Emerging at ground level out into the winter sun, venture over the hill to the castle and savour the opulence of the tiered courtyard, a result of Sigismund the Old's commission to a Florentine architect in the early 1500s. Within the castle are the state rooms and royal treasury, accessible via the purchase of separate tickets.
From here we took a pleasant walk along the curve of the Wisla River, which ends in the old heart of Kazimierz, the Jewish quarter. In 1495, King Jan Olbracht decided to uproot Krakow's sizeable Jewish population from the old town, and Kazimierz became the heartland of Poland's Jews. Many of the buildings and synagogues have survived, and the area is seeing renewed activity after years of neglect following World War II. Houses are being renovated and bars and restaurants are opening. Certainly, some people have been drawn by the knowledge that Spielberg filmed much of Schindler's List here and you can even take Schindler's List tours. Kazimierz is a quiet place to learn about Jewish heritage, but it's fast becoming trendy part of town.
Next, we hopped on the bus outside Krakow Glowny, the main train station, and sped off to Wieliczka, 15km southeast of Krakow. We went to the salt mine, as I could think of no better way of spending my birthday than 200m underground. The mine is listed among UNESCO's world cultural heritage monuments. Salt deposits were discovered at Wieliczka in the 11th century, and over the years an extensive labyrinth of pit faces, tunnels and rooms sprang up. Scaled-down mining continues today, but most of the income is from tourism. Access is by guided two-hour tour only, and our guide offered a comprehensive history of the place, from the miners' strong religious faith (their traditional morning greeting was "God bless you"), to their belief in guardian gnomes who warded off real mining dangers. Artistic miners sculpted their own gnomes out of salt.
Here you'll find three underground chapels, one of them the enormous Blessed Kinga's Chapel, some 135m underground. The stairs, banister, altar and chandeliers are all made from salt. You can even get married here. In all, the tour takes two hours and covers two miles of ground.
Underground, overground, Krakow and its environs are wonderful. Sure, it's chilly in winter, but everywhere you go you'll receive such a warm welcome that it more than makes up for the cold.
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