This is our last night in Gdansk – tomorrow we head to Wroclaw. The first time we were in Poland we tried to get a train to ‘Row-claw’ – the person at the station had absolutely no idea where that town was.  A decade later we found out Wroclaw is pronounced ‘Vrots- wov’. With my fluent Polish we  had no problem getting tickets this time.

Today we visited Gdynia, the most northerly of the 3 cities that make up this metropolis. It too has a port on the Baltic Sea (and freezing cold water I found out today!). From 1871 until 1945 Gdansk, Sopot and Gdynia were part of Germany or designated free cities. From 1945 onwards they have been Polish. Mr Stalin redrew most of the boundaries of Eastern Europe after the war – all German speakers were deported to East Germany, Polish speakers and Kasubians from other areas were all moved to what is now Poland.

And here in Gdansk, Gdynia and other ‘light on syllable’ Polish cities, we have derived the greatest insights through talking to our ‘tour guides’  baristas and uber drivers who are the fonts of all knowledge. Interestingly, uber drivers are simultaneously taxi drivers – its a case of take your pick – pay up front with Uber or, in exactly the same car, fall at the mercy of a taxi driver seeking to derive a maximum fare from unsuspecting Aussies. Today, a charming young mum Ubered us from Oliwa on the outskirts of Gdansk to her hometown of Gdynia. She reminded us that Mr Stalin’s borders still hold fast and have led to an endearing parochialism rarely found amongst the casual cynicism of Aussies. She rattled off a thousand reasons why Poland is such a great country in which to live. But, we suspect, like her Aussie counterparts, she wanted to ask, ‘Why Poland for such a long holiday?’

Perhaps it’s our choice because the beaten tourist path is far less visible, perhaps it’s for conversations with our barista at the Fat Duck cafe, perhaps it’s the simple joy of trying to photograph a local squirrel in a park rich with Autumn colours, or its the delight of a six dollar lunch in a student kitchen where you order by pointing, nodding and finger crossing and always, always return your tray and plates before departing. Perhaps it is the excitement of revisiting Wroclaw – more than a decade on and viewing thought the eyes of a parochial uber driver – or taxi driver for that matter: same same. And this time we should be able to pronounce ‘Wroclaw’..

F C-S