Aug 24 2025

When we lived in the UK, Lori was sent to Prague for work and, as part of that trip we made our fateful trip to Krakow ( see Planes, Trains and Polish Taxis) that had us removed form the train at gun point (well the border guards had big guns) at Katowice. We had always been interested to return to Krakow, not because of this experience, but because we wanted to see how it had emerged, as it was just doing so when we visited in 1994.

This morning in Berlin, Lori enjoyed a morning run back along our river route and through the Tiergarten. The trees there have all grown since the Second World War as those there previously were chopped down in the desperate need for firewood during the harsh post war winter. Lori’s observation was that the park is looking tired and needs some further care and attention.

We left for the train station with plenty of time to grab coffee, a breakfast pastry and something for lunch before proceeding to our platform to await our train which would take us one stop to connect to our Intercity train to Krakow. 

Our plenty of time began to evaporate as our first train became increasingly delayed such that we started to get messages that we would no longer make our connection. Never mind that we could have boarded several earlier trains but for our casualness. It was then Lori had the inspired idea to try a cab. So we raced up to the street and asked the cabbie if he could make it in time. He said he needed 9 minutes. We had 11. Fortunately it was a Sunday morning and, breaking more than a few speed rules, we did in fact make it. Though, in our haste, we still got on the wrong carriage and to had to hop back off and on again. 

We were very glad we had booked seats (and found them). As we approached Krakow the train became (over) full with people crammed in every aisle and doorway. Also meant the toilet ran out of paper. 

Also glad we got our booked train as it meant we got into Krakow at a reasonable time. We walked up into the square with the masses (!) of people. Far cry from 30 years ago when we had it almost to ourselves. We met our host who led us the quirky path to our AirBnB: past the mirror maze, tattoo parlour and 3D ride. 

Settled in we spontaneously decided to book tickets for the Banksy museum. Apparently a number of artists decided to create the space and locked themselves away for two weeks to do. While it might be considered a tourist trap it was still great for us to be able to see as we would never get to see his art (original or reproduced) otherwise. We felt it was quite tastefully and artistically done. 

It was then back to the square to figure out where to recreate the ice cream photo of thirty years ago. And to decide we didn’t think the carved Jewish musician statues were our thing anymore. 

Planes, Trains and Polish Taxis

May 1994

This letter was originally to be about the trials and joys of living in the U.K. but after our visit to Prague and Krakow that has all been pushed into the background by a journey that makes “Planes, Trains and Automobiles” look like a Sunday picnic.

Lori was being sent to Prague to cover the 6th International Congress on Infectious Diseases as well as to assist in the launching of Sparfloxacin as she wrote the drug monograph (watch for it, coming soon to a pharmacy near you). Me, I was tagging along again as a freeloader.

Now we had been told that, while in the general vicinity, we must visit Krakow. So after much organizing, visa arranging and going to seven different windows to buy our ticket we caught the overnight train from Prague. Now arriving at any train station at 6 a.m. is not usually a wise thing but when you are almost mugged and the so-called information lady refuses to help you find your hotel because a) she’s not from Krakow and b) she’s only for train information anyway, it doesn’t leave you with a glowing impression.

But we should not be harsh as we had a fascinating and enlightening time in Krakow, visiting Auschwitz, Birkenau, the Salt Mines (with a 2 1/2 tour in Polish – captivating for about the first hour but then all tunnels tend to look a little the same), JPII’s home Cathedral, and seeing the Kosciuszko after which our mountain is named. Alsoit was great hanging out in the square drinking coffee and eating ice-cream. Yes even Poland has better weather than England.

During one of these repasts we took a closer look at our Czech visa as we were concerned that we may have invalidated it when crossing to Poland, However it wasn’t immediately obvious (in retrospect it was) so we went to the local tourist info to check it out. Now they did have a sign saying “Visas arranged” on the window so we thought we were on a pretty sure bet. However, with experience, we did learn that, in Eastern Europe, what was written on the outside did not necessarily align with what went on inside (e.g. ‘Accommodation arranged’, ‘Money changed’) but the woman inside did assure us that our visas were valid. So, our minds at ease, we played the ticket window shuffle once again to return to Prague.

Unfortunately, the border guards were reading from a different script and they begged to differ. Their rather formidable artillery tended to sway the argument in their favour. Despite having been given a visa before and having plane tickets out of Prague they deemed us unfit to enter the Czech Republic and booted us off the train at 1 a.m. at a train station in the middle of nowhere. To be accurate it was a place called Zebrzydowice (don’t ask me to pronounce it) on the edge of Poland. There we waited, later joined by some other unfortunate Australians in a similar predicament, until the 2.30 a.m. train came to take us back to the bustling metropolis of Katowice, arriving at 4 a.m.

Now you may wonder why you haven’t heard of this place. Well don’t. It makes Mt Isa/ Sudbury, look like a tourist Mecca. When they call it a mining town they should dispense with the ‘g’ as the mine is ‘in’ town. However this place does have a Czech consulate. So on arrival we found a taxi to take us (by the long ‘tourist’ route of course) to the Hotel Katowice. Now three stars usually means something but again we struck the phenomenon of the misleading facade because, despite the expense of sleeping there for 2 1/2 hours, it was a typically communist style hotel with rock solid beds and pillows and water the same colour as the carpet (that defies description).

Despite our wake up call not materialising, we fronted up to the consulate bang on 8 a.m. that morning to learn that it was only open Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. Yes, you guessed it, the consul had checked his diary that morning, and being Tuesday, he was off to the golf course (or whatever one does on days off in Katowice). So we were essentially screwed as Lori had to be back in Prague that evening for the pre-conference meeting.

But we were not going to lie down that easily as I remembered reading (and seeing) that you can get visas in the airport so the taxi driver (who had kindly hung around) took us off to LOT airlines. Yes that is Polish airlines, and we assume they’re called so because they got what was leftover from AerofLOT.The kind chap in the booking office told us “Yes, there is a direct flight to Prague but it leaves from Warsaw in about 15 minutes”. So scratch that option. Our next option was to fly to Frankfurt then change planes (and airlines – CSA this time) to Prague. Being in a pickle that’s the only option we had. We had a little time to waste until the shuttle bus arrived so we wandered into ‘town’ to find ourselves some spare passport photos. The usual several shops and misleading signs later we managed to achieve some. We have developed a theory that any enquiry in Eastern Europe has to reach a certain critical mass before it can attain sufficient momentum to engender an answer.

So on the shuttle bus we climbed to drive to Katowice airport. And we drove and we drove and we drove…… We really did begin to wonder if we were being kidnapped. However when we eventually arrived we discovered the reason for the isolation: Katowice International Airport was also Katowice Military airport so we took off amongst the MiGs and the transport planes.

Actually we have to say that we can highly recommend LOT airlines. They’ve ditched all their Russian planes for new Boeings, the food was good, the service was superb and we had all sorts of magazines and articles to read. Landing was a little like the Luna Park Roller coaster – lots of up and down and side to side while never being quite sure that the whole thing wasn’t going to collapse beneath you – but we survived. Of course, due to the incredible prestige of our airline we were parked in a suburb of Frankfurt airport and almost needed a shuttle plane to get us to the main terminal.

Once ensconced in Frankfurt terminal we began the four hour wait, playing the flight board shuffle, as our flight first appeared and slowly made it’s way up the ranks to be awarded the alternatively flashing green lights (why is this the accepted international signal for “Ready for Boarding”?) Finally we reached the magical “Now Boarding” plateau so off we trundled to our departure lounge (another stage of limbo?) After much tapping of the computer and puzzled frowns we were informed that we weren’t on the passenger list. Well you can imagine that at this stage we were seriously wondering whose grave it was we had stepped on. In retrospect this probably was the nadir of the whole farce as we were subsequently upgraded to Business Class (for what that is worth on CSA).

So finally we were off to Prague (again). As the plane landed the tension was palpable: would our intrepid adventurers make it across the line, would they be thrown in jail or would they be forced to resort to self immolation as some other poor sod did? (Some Romanian guy got so fed up with waiting at the Czech border the day before, he set fire to himself in protest.)

However this is where the farce reached its most unfathomable. We handed over our passports, photos and yet another considerable amount of money, the guy stamped our passports and we sauntered casually through. Now you can’t tell me that they couldn’t have done that at the border (actually ‘the book’ says they do). Hell, if we were American or English we wouldn’t have needed the bloody things in the first place. Several Eastern Europeans have since remarked that it would have been easier five years ago: a few US dollars in the passport and all problems would be solved. Ah for the good old days. Actually we dread to think how much more difficult it would have been five years ago.

Despite all this Prague was fantastic and we enjoyed ourselves immensely. Any bad memories were quickly dispersed by a few beers in what must be one of the most exciting squares in the world. Prague really is a happening place. It seems as if everyone (except the border guards) is trying very hard to make a go of things and with good results. Dare I say that it all seems so ‘Bohemian’. Now I’m not going to be one of those voyeuristic neophytes and say “Get there before it’s ruined”. The Russians really have a lot to answer for as they did a lot of damage in their time and Prague hasn’t looked back since the ‘Velvet Revolution’. People are everywhere, sitting out in street cafes and enjoying an incredible range of music. Yes it is crowded, and I imagine it will get more so, but it is an excited, positive crowd. Yes McDonald’s has moved in but then the founder, Harry Krok, was a Czech immigrant anyway. Plus there is very little room to ‘ruin’ central Prague as so much of the old architecture is preserved and is being restored.

Na shledanou (that’s polite Czech for “Get off my train”).