Arriving in Krakow – multiple spellings depending on whose army is in occupation – our Ryanair 737 joins a long line of Presidential jets on the apron. Germany’s is the largest. They are here because today is the 75th anniversary of the Russian liberation of Auschwitz – or Oswiecim if Poland had not been invaded in 1939.
You have to hand it to the German nation – to have destroyed Europe and rebuilt it again in a century, and to be first in line on such an anniversary. Mrs Merkel recently paid her first visit to Auschwitz. I don’t know whether these observations are ironic or not. Matthew, our Taxi driver, says that it is all in the past. Germans have nothing to repay.
This sounds like dangerous talk to me, though young Matthew, studying Logistics at university, and temping as a taxi driver, is too young to be burdened by history, or his parents’ sufferings, or their past crimes.
We take a walk. Into the city via the Vistula whose misty banks lead to the heart of the City and the towering presence of the Wawel – part citadel, and mediaeval city centre. Swans are active, practicing lengthy takeoffs on the glassy river. Couples in hi-viz jog along deserted banks.
As we walk through the immaculate old city to the Market Square, sirens echo down the chasms of the streets. We like to think it’s another head of state leaving for the airport, or if not too well known, for one of the many night clubs hiding under Kracow’s respectable skirts.
They’re very cultured these folk – we’re continually asked if we want to see Polish dancers. We assume that’s what they mean by Poles.
Poland with a Plan 