Poland | the Saint and the Devil
Between spontaneous choices and a haunting visit to Auschwitz, I came to see Poland through two lenses: one of reverence, and one of reckoning.
Planning a trip this long comes with challenges—chief among them: deciding what to do and when. It is virtually impossible to plan every single step of the journey and the entire itinerary. Not only because it leaves very little room for spontaneity, but also because one would also go completely crazy.
It is impossible to control it all, and there will be mishaps. Do you think I was planning on seeing an entire Barbie collection in the Spielzeugmuseum in Munich? No, but that did happen.
I’ve accepted a level of uncertainty on this trip. Tolerating the unpredictable is perhaps one of the foundational skills required to travel for such a long time. As a result, I often show up in a city without knowing exactly what I will do there.
This was the case in Poland, just like most cities I went to on this trip. The issue with Poland, however, is that it is a very big country. In those cases, I often default to visiting the capital if I’m intrigued by a nation and its culture, but I haven’t spent lots of time researching it.
Warsaw, Krakow… or somewhere in between?
I’ve been meaning to go there for a while now. I have two good friends with strong Polish roots, and so I heard a lot of great things. The food, the culture, and yes, the booze and the parties.
I looked at the map and decided to squeeze in Warsaw between Berlin and Budapest.
They are far from each other, but I got this unlimited train pass. On top, I don’t mind the long train rides.
The views are peaceful and I can get a lot done. Occasionally, though, you end up reading a post that’s a tad too long because I get in the zone and I still have much time left until my destination.
Speaking of which, have you read about my time in Morocco? My longest so far, but instead it was written on my phone while on a microbus from the Sahara desert to Marrakech.
I’ve digressed. Apologies. Back to Poland.
“Why are you going to Warsaw?” There is not that much to see there, a friend told me.
“Well, it is the capital… I’m sure there’s a lot to see.” I replied though I wasn’t entirely sure myself.
I was told that Warsaw, however, was badly hit in World War II. There was very little left, and the city was almost entirely rebuilt from the ground up.
“Go to Krakow. You’re gonna like Krakow”, they told me.
So that’s how I decided I would go to Krakow. I don’t think that at the time I could point it on a map if you asked me. But I trust my friends, so if they say Krakow is the place to be, then I’m going there.
Once I got to Berlin, I saw how long it would take to go to Krakow. The 10-hour ride with one change wasn’t too bad. However, my cousin, who I was visiting in Berlin, asked me: “Why don’t you go to Poznan? It is a cool city and it is on the way. You’re gonna like it.”
So—as one does—I decided to go to Poznan.
The Journey Begins in Poznan
I got to Poznan a bit late on a Tuesday. The hostel I stayed at was in this back alley near the old town. It was dark and cold, I walked past a cheap car with all wheels removed and resting atop a pile of plywood. The hostel clerk wasn’t there, so I had to wait a little bit, while this seemingly drunk guest asked me a bunch of random and, at times, intrusive questions.
Eventually, I checked in, showered, and retired for the night. My room wasn’t too far from the reception, and the inebriated fellow was still there, loudly chatting with everyone who walked by.
I could hear him from my room and fell asleep as I wondered what I was getting myself into.
Exploring Poznań: Goats, Karaoke, and the Pope
The next day, I left to wander in Poznan. It is a nice city, albeit small when compared to the more well-known cities in Poland. They have an old town, with an old clock tower, and the typical tourism that surrounds such places. I was glad, nonetheless, to not have seen any Tuk Tuks.
The clock tower has a couple of mechanical goats that every day at noon come out and “greet” each other, bowing robotically a few times, which reminded me of the astronomical clock tower in Prague.
Eastern Europe was starting to feel repetitive, so I decided to be more determined to get off the touristy path. This led me to a bar where they had trivia and karaoke. I’m usually shy but I didn’t know anyone there, so I gave myself a shot at singing Africa by Toto.
If you’re wondering, I’m not a particularly good singer, so you didn’t miss anything.
The next day, I went to this part of town called Ostrów Tumski, home to the beautiful Archcathedral Basilica of Saint Peter and Saint Paul. I’ll admit that even the most magnificent churches, basilicas, and cathedrals feel a bit underwhelming after visiting the Vatican.
However, I went in there to check it out. Was it partly because I was already there, it was one of the sights, and it was free? Absolutely. Was it partly because I think churches and old buildings tell a story, helping us to further shape our understanding of the world? On point too.
On my way there, a few meters from it, I saw a really big statue of the former Pope John Paul II. The Polish Pope. The first Pope I saw in my lifetime.
The Saint
I was about 10 years old when Pope John Paul II passed. Old enough to understand the magnitude and uniqueness of his figure, but at the same time young so that I mostly saw a frail man battling through the end of his papacy.
Popes are larger-than-life characters. Most heads of state are. Though are they historic figures? In some ways, yes. There are historical records of all popes to this date. A lot can be discussed about the popes and their legacies.
In a way, however, no. Are they relevant to this day? Are they remembered? What did they do?
For instance, there were several emperors, kings, sultans, and rulers throughout history, but how many significantly mattered for our understanding of the world? Take the entire Roman Empire as an example: how many emperors can you name? I can perhaps name 5 or 6. I have no idea of the total amount, but I assure you it is way higher than that.
The same goes for Popes. Saint Peter, the first Pope, is of course remembered. Then most people have no idea of who the others are. The harsh truth is that Popes, albeit the spiritual leaders of the Catholic Church on Earth, are likely to be forgotten a few generations after their lifetimes.
I mean no offense. It is just a statistical observation.
Saints are also not very likely to be remembered. The Catholic Church recognizes over 10,000 saints. Most of these are not widely recognized and don’t have massive followings. Out of those, 83 served as Popes, which is roughly a third of all Popes.
I’m no Vatican or ecclesiastic scholar, so please take this with a grain of salt. No, not a grain of salt. A slab of salt.
But here we go: a saint, to be relevant and remembered, needs to have their image shown in churches. Popes will also be forgotten some decades after their papacy.
Done, I said it.
Some saints are more relevant than others, of course, but a saint with no painting, sculpture, or stained glass to call their own… tough luck!
Now, Pope John Paul II is not forgotten in Brazil or the US. After all, he passed only 20 years ago. Most of the population alive in those countries today saw part or the totality of his papacy.
He’s too recent.
But do we truly adore him? No… I’ve never seen any art after him in either country. Sure, there are historical records. Photos, news articles, papal records, and all. But you don’t see signs of worship for him easily.
I’ve been to many Catholic countries and I don’t remember seeing much there either, with the notable exceptions of his chapel within Saint Peter’s Basilica, of course, and a statue for him outside of the Our Lady of Guadalupe Basilica in Mexico City.
In Poland, you also don’t see Pope John Paul II. You see the Saint John Paul II.
When I saw the big statue of him in Poznan, my immediate thought was that he had been born there. But he wasn’t. He also never had any formal role there, rather being active in Ombi and Krakow.
I then started noticing him. Everywhere.
You see candles lit and flowers left for him. There are statues and paintings. Yes, he is probably the most photographed (I guess if you forget the smartphones for a second) Pope in history, but there were paintings of him hung on church walls. Just like saints we all know by the name.
I found that very powerful. In Krakow, there were also plaques spread out throughout Planty Park, with his teachings and sayings. Yes, it was close to the St. Mary’s Basilica, but this was no worship site.
Though my sample size is surely limited, I imagine you can probably see him all over Poland.
This is how much St. John Paul II is adored in Poland, and I had no clue about it.
I ponder whether 2,000 years from now Catholics will still be worshipping him, just like today’s Catholics worship the apostles and some of the saints that followed afterward. I also ask myself whether we need time to understand the magnitude of certain historical figures.
For example, Popes Benedict XVI and Francis: what is the weight of their legacies? Will we see their images all over Germany and Argentina? How will their works and philosophies shape the next conclave?
Now, enough with the holy talk. Time to discuss some sins.
And no, I’m not talking about my sins in Krakow, diverting half of my hostel away from the official pub crawl and instead leading them to the bars I had scouted the night before and deemed them to be cool. Nor should I wish to discuss the beers I had, the EDM clubs I went to, or the amazing Polish food I ate.
I’m talking about the sins masterminded by the Devil.
The Devil
Krakow is a complex city. I had an amazing time there, I met great people, and I recommend it to anyone who wishes to experience a vibrant, bohemian, cultural, and historical place. Krakow, just like Poland, showed me a Poland that is clean, thriving, and modernizing.
Yet, on my third day I started to feel uneasy about all the fun nights I spent in Kazimierz, the neighborhood with very exciting bars and nightlife, but once the place where the Jewish lived in Krakow.
So I decided to take a walking tour. At first, I wasn’t going to, but then this French guy I met at the hostel convinced me to go with him. Before World War II, it was estimated that 68,000 Jews lived there. Roughly one-quarter of the population at the time.
Now, there are less than 100.
While on the tour, I learned that it in reality wasn’t hard to physically escape from there. Despite the walls surrounding it built by the occupying forces, the actual challenge was to go unnoticed outside of Kazimierz.
The Jewish who lived there often had distinguished accents when speaking Polish and weren’t blond-looking. Tadeusz Pankiewicz, a local pharmacist, would supply the Jewish hair dye so that they could have a better shot at escaping.
But even then, once outside, local non-Jewish citizens often had incentives to turn in the Jewish they found to the Gestapo. Either for ideological reasons or for fear of being caught cooperating with them.
Dark times for sure.
After my tour, I decided to go to the Oskar Schindler Enamel Factory at 4 Lipowa. You may recognize this name from the famous movie Schindler’s List. Yes, that Schindler.
Now, as you can possibly imagine, I had barely thought about going to Krakow, so of course I hadn’t done any specific research about what to do there until I got there. I went to Schindler’s factory thinking it would be a museum honoring Schindler himself and the people he saved, or explaining the factory and the life there.
Yes, there was a bit of that… but the museum was mostly a contextual one, explaining the history of World War II, the path that led to it, and the rise of Nazism.
Mostly textbook content.
Then, a shocking scene: I turned a corner and saw two big red drapes with the Nazi insignia. Under this context, nothing crazy. After all, it is a museum educating about the causes, horrors, and the facts of World War II, and the Nazi symbols are part of the education.
It was appalling, however, to see this lady, apparently in her 40s, taking a picture of her son, seemingly 13, next to the flag.
It was an awkward moment of “hey, smile, let’s take a picture with the flag”.
Now, the kid was a bit uncomfortable with it. I think he realized midway through that he shouldn’t be taking this picture, and the mom seemed to be one of those who simply photographs everything, without thinking much about it.
Or not? Maybe they follow the ideology?
Who knows… either way, it is very worrying when you’re on a site dedicated to remembering one of the darkest chapters in History, and you have an adult taking a picture of their teenage child next to a symbol that is associated with death, torture, brutality, and crimes against humanity.
The moment may have taken only a few seconds but, in disbelief with regards to what I was seeing, I turned to my side to see if anyone else had witnessed it as well.
I saw this with the same horrified look on his face. We start whispering to each other: “did that just happen?”. It had. He then turned to his husband to describe what he had seen. His face was also of disbelief.
We then started to stroll through the museum at about the same pace. Often discussing the exhibit with one another. After a few hours there, we decided to grab pierogis, Polish dumplings (delicious, by the way).
Then, the dumbass who writes you, thought it would be funny to ask him: “oh, you’re from Germany? what was your grandpa doing in 1942?” His grandpa was serving in the Nazi army, I was told. He is now 97 and one of the last alive. Yes, he was very young and joined towards the end of the war.
It is tough to blame anyone that young, in a situation where armies were entirely conscripted, and the only way out of it would be fleeing the country into exile, at a time when your country is at war with all the neighbors.
The grandpa left the army shortly after the war and was never proud of being involved in it. See, Mr. Orestes? This is how you do it.
This day was a bit unsettling. I not only witnessed a scene showing how people are already forgetting some of the most critical history lessons. I was also reminded that those who carry the first-hand memories have almost all left us.
Auschwitz: A Mandatory Stop
My last day in Poland was dedicated to paying my due respect to the victims of the Holocaust. I visited Auschwitz I and Auschwitz-Birkenau, which I hope to be the low point of my travels. I believed it was important to go when I booked the tickets (not far in advance at all), but the previous day in the Schindler factory made me more sure of it.
Though it wasn’t fun, there is always something you learn when visiting these places. For instance, I knew that women had their hair shaved, but I didn’t know that the hair was collected and then used to manufacture rugs. Disgusting. Seeing all the shoes, glasses, protheses from deportees also helped to shape up a better view of the numbers.
Numbers, in a spreadsheet, are just numbers. A pile of shoes the size of a room is much more impactful and illustrative.
The tragic events there didn’t happen too long ago, in historical terms, but you never know when History can rhyme again.
I won’t go on about it, since it’s all well documented—and thankfully, I didn’t run into any crazy person while there, but I encourage all to visit, if you can, and, if not, to read a book, watch a documentary, or a movie that discusses this topic.
Oh, the Devil I mentioned? I won’t name him. You already know it.
Upcoming Itinerary:
📍May 5th - 8th Bratislava / Vienna
📍May 9th - 11th Switzerland ⛰️
💬 If this piece moved you, made you reflect, or gave you something to think about, please leave a comment below. I’d love to hear your thoughts, your experiences in Poland, or how history has touched your travels.
Bio
Hi, I’m Guido—a Brazilian traveler who spent 13 years in the US before life nudged me toward a long-awaited dream: a year of exploring the world. I started this page to share my journey with family and friends, but if you’ve found your way here, I’m grateful you came along!
Maravilhoso texto, como sempre, filho! Que bom que você está se permitindo viver experiências que, mesmo não sendo tão felizes, te engrandecem como ser humano! ❤️