All along the watchtowers

Travelling by coach around communist Poland in the 1970s, I'd see these wooden structures dotted around forests and fields; I reasoned that these must be watchtowers – lookout posts for internal security troops guarding strategic installations hidden behind the trees... my reasoning was that since these didn't exist in the UK and the UK was a free country whilst Poland wasn't, they could only serve a sinister purpose. But as it happens, these are hunters' 'pulpits' (ambona łowiecka). It's from up here that brave hunters shoot their local wildlife. Below: the nearest pulpit to my działka, near Machcin II.

Below: getting close... I explore, shinning up the ladder. There's a latch on the bottom left of the door, it's not locked. I lift it, open the door and enter.

Below: getting in. There are three windows, each has a hinged blind opening downwards. All three were left open, suggesting to me that this spell of dry, sunny weather was a good time to air the pulpit after the winter. The sun, getting lower in the sky, shines through a crack in the wood.

Below: here's the pulpit in January. The hunting season in Poland runs from autumn to the end of February; exact dates vary according to prey (hare, female deer, pheasants etc).

Below: here's one in the Las Watraszewski forest; note the construction of each one differs. This one looks decidedly ramshackle.

Below: here's one in Zgorzała, photo taken in April 2020, when the world was in lockdown. This one has a clear corrugated plastic roof.

Below: view from inside – note the encroaching housing estate across the field.

Below: by December 2020, it had toppled over. Google Maps imagery from this earlier this year suggests it's still lying over there.

Below: close encounter with a hare, Jakubowizna (taken with Nikkor kit lens zoomed out to 55mm – that close!). It came running towards me – stopped, looked behind it, hesitating for a second (note its stance) then turned to its right to dash past me at a close distance. A split second later, a fox ran into view. It had evidently been chasing the hare and the hare had decided that I was the lesser threat. The fox, on seeing me, turned around and sprinted off the other way. Fate had intervened. 

How can one shoot to kill sentient life? Let it live. Let it share in experiencing consciousness. 

BONUS SHOT below: 16 May, early evening. Just round the corner from the Machcin pulpit, a young male deer sporting a pair of proto-antlers. With the wind blowing towards me, I got in quite close before the deer turned and ran.

Whenever I hear gunshots in the forest in winter, I hope the hunter missed.

This time last year:
Blossom, sunshine and trains, Chynów

This time two years ago:
A better tomorrow for the soul

This time three years ago:
Blossom time in Jakubowizna - the apples

This time five years ago:

The Ice Saints - right on cue

This time nine years ago:

Then and now: Trafalgar Square (recreating my father's photos)

This time 11 years ago:
Reflection upon the City Car

This time 13 years ago:
Biblical sky

This time 14 years ago:
Travel broadens the spirit

This time 15 years ago:
Welcome the Ice Saints

This time 17 years ago:
On the farm next door

Gdynia

I really like Gdynia. Not only because it's by the sea, located next to the resort of Sopot and historic Gdańsk (which together with Gdynia form the Trójmiasto or Tri-City), but because the lie of the land, and its architecture. Steep hills rise up from the beach, there's the port, the shipyards, the modernism of one of Poland's interwar grands projets; once inland, a coastal strip of road and rail with buildings on either side – and then beyond that, a national park stretching far inland.

This is a good one; flats along one side of road rising up a hill, cresting to its peak...

...And from the peak, downhill through a wooded canyon to the beach.

Below: if you follow the signpost in the above photo ('DOJŚCIE DO PLAŻY') it will take you down to the beach via this delightful footpath through a wooded canyon.

Below: on the beach. It's possible to leave Warsaw at 9am, arrive in Gdańsk at noon, get some business done, travel onto Gdynia in the early evening, check into your hotel, and go for an stroll along the Baltic coast while there's still plenty of daylight left. On the horizon: the port of Gdańsk.

Down by the jetty, I espy many ships in the bay. This one, the Ragna, is a feeder ship, plies its trade between Gdynia and Teesport, UK. Along the horizon, the Hel peninsula.

A word about Tri-City trains; Gdańsk, Sopot and Gdynia are connected by a first-rate rail transport network. On my way between Gdańsk Główny and Gdynia Redłowo (21km/13 miles), I bought a ticket for the local SKM service, which cost me 6.75zł (£1.35) with 25% senior's discount. The train departed just as I reached the platform – no matter, the next one was in seven minute's time. However, I was irked by probably the most absurd platform numeration ever; tracks 501 and 502 on a line with just four tracks. Below: two passengers checking their timetable apps to ensure that what they are seeing is real. It is.

I arrived yesterday in Gdańsk in perfect sunshine, I depart today with refreshing sea-drizzle spread over Gdynia. Even in poor weather, Gdynia retains its maritime charm that reminds me of northern Spain, Bilbao and Santander. Below: interwar modernism, and a trolleybus under wire. Note the Ukrainian flag still flying in solidarity. Much of Gdynia's public transport consists of trolleybuses and electric- or electric-hybrid buses. The city prides itself on its green credentials. 

This time last year:
Covid is over; what did we learn?

This time two years ago:

How does a 'better tomorrow' look?

This time three years ago:
Blossom time in Jakubowizna

This time four years ago:

Apple-blossom time in Jakubowizna

This time five years ago:
Busy doing nothin'

This time ten years ago:
Springtime pictorial

This time 11 years ago:
Kitten time!

This time 12 years ago:
Warsaw-Centrum to Jeziorki by train with super-wide lens

This time 13 years ago:
Loose Lips Sink Ships - part II

This time 14 years ago:
Jeziorki in the infra red 

This time 15 years ago:
Some rain, at last!

More from Świnoujście

Here I am, 27 years living in Poland, Polish my first language (I began learning English at nursery school), and yet here's a simple Polish word I never knew. Stawa. Beacon. On exploring Świnoujście further, I learnt that the town's symbol is Stawa Młyny (the Windmill Beacon), below. Up on top, 11m high, is the navigation light on the western breakwater of the approaches to the port.

The 'windmill' sails today are decorative serving no functional purpose, but originally, they rotated at a fixed speed (driven by an internal mechanism), to block light from the lantern housed at the top of the beacon at a fixed interval A lovely bit of Germanic maritime history, bringing vividly to life the atmosphere of Erskine Childers' The Riddle of the Sands, a nautical spy novel set along Germany's coast in the years before WW1. 

Below: that same klimat, tidal estuaries and treacherous sandbars, looking out over the Szczecin lagoon from Lubin, a village situated on the south-westerly tip of the Wolin national park, on the island of Wolin. Heavy rain is falling on the island of Uznam (Usedom); Świnoujście is hidden behind the tree-trunk in the foreground. At the north end of the Wolin national park, there's a bison reservation, which also holds several other mammalian species native to Poland.

Below: returning to the west bank of the Świna estuary on the Bielik IV, its decks still wet from the recent downpour.

What's the English for tężnia? (Pt II, Pt I here). In German, it's gradierwerke (Germans invented them in the 17th century). Germany and Poland are the world's leaders in this health-destination product. But in English? According to Wikipedia, it's 'graduation tower'. ( I think 'brine tower' – what Wieliczka calls its tężnia in English) is better. Inhaling the saline air, apparently, is good for your health [*not yet confirmed in any peer-reviewed double-blind randomised clinical trial]. Still, if you believe that spending 30 minutes here will improve your health outcomes – then it shall be so. "Inhaling the salted air lubricates the respiratory system and positively influences the respiratory organs. The fine salt crystals have an expectorant effect, which cleans the respiratory system and causes the mucosa to detumesce." [Source.] 

Below: the recently opened tęznia in Świnoujście, close to the German border.

Back to the beach to watch the sun setting over Uznam. Across the bay – Peenemünde, a name synonymous with Nazi secret-weapon tests. It was from there that the first V-1 and V-2 missiles were launched. At the beach bar I toasted the setting of the sun with an Auchentoshan single-malt whisky and a Kozel Černý beer chaser – northern Europe is the land of grain-derived alcohol.

I return to Warsaw to learn that I'll back back to Świnoujście again later this month (this time on a business trip). Final thought – Świnoujście is much nicer than the neighbouring resort town of Międzyzdroje. It is newer, cleaner, quieter. A bit more up-market.

This time last year:
Corporate profits – better than Bolshevism.

This time three years ago:
Intimations of Immortality, revisited.

This time four years ago:
Things will never be the same Pt II

This time five years ago:
Up to my waist

This time six years ago:
Luton Airport's never-ending modernisation works

This time nine years ago:
Another office move

This time ten years ago:
Workhorse of the Free World's Air Forces over Jeziorki

This time 11 years ago:
Looking for The Zone, in and around Jeziorki

This time 12 years ago:
I awake to snow, on 4 May

This time 17 years ago:
This is not America. No?

In and out of Germany, via Świnoujście

After two short trips to Świnoujście in the darkness (December 2022 and late-November 2023, the latter one here), I vowed a return when the days were longer. One reason was to see what could count as the strangest railway station on the territory of Poland – Świnoujście Centrum. A station that connects with no other station in Poland; it serves as the terminus of a line that serves 24 stations, 23 of which being in Germany. 

The railway, the Usedomer Bäderbahn GmbH (UBB, 'Usedom bathing railway', originally opened in 1911 to serve Baltic beach resorts. (Usedom is the German name for the Baltic island that's called Uznam in Polish; mostly in Germany, it also contains the Polish town of Świnoujście.)

In 2008, the line returned to Świnoujście (formerly Swinemünde), Polish since 1945. Today, the border between the two countries, crossed shortly after leaving Świnoujście Centrum, is almost invisible. No one checks passports or ID cards. Below: the 12:16 for Züssow waits for passengers at Świnoujście Centrum. If you enlarge, you'll see that German railways have the same passion for ridiculous track numbers as do Polish railways – Świnoujście Centrum has a Track (Gleis/Tor) 31 and Track 32, rather than the logical Platform 1 and Platform 2.

However, all is not straightforward. To buy your ticket, you need cash (cards not accepted) – and you'll need German cash (Polish złotys not accepted). There is no information on the station as to fare structure or timetable in Polish or indeed in English – this is in German. This is the one station in Poland for which I cannot buy a ticket via my Polish railway apps, Koleo or Portal Pasażera. The train conductor spoke only German. To her credit, it must be said that she was friendly and helpful. Below: the road border, seen from the train as it crosses over onto German soil.

The train passes four stations before reaching Heringsdorf Seebad, where it changes directions and reverses out to swing round into Heringsdorf Neuhof, and thence on to Züssow via Zinnowitz. Below: a two-car vintage diesel railbus set stands outside the renovated station at Heringsdorf Seebad.

Below: terminus bay platforms after the departure of the Züssow train.

Below: the station has been sympathetically restored. It puts me in mind of many such buildings across western Poland.

On foot from Heringsdorf to Ahlbeck. First impressions of German seaside towns – tidy, clean, demographically older than their Polish neighbours, quieter, fewer attractions. 

On to the beach, to test Jonathan Meades' hypothesis about northern Europe – you should be able to get herring and schnapps or herring and vodka anywhere on the North Sea and Baltic coasts. And indeed, in Ahlbeck, there it is, Matjes Brötchen – herring in a warm, crusty bun, with Kümmerling, a herbal schnapps. 

Below: the last entrance onto the beach on the German side. The air is clean, the smell of pine trees and sea breezes, the cry of gulls. On the horizon, a line of ships entering Świnoujście harbour. On the either side of this entrance – the nudist beach (FKK-Strand)

And then, feet wet in the Baltic, back along the beach to Poland. Below: the next exit along onto the beach, between Germany and Poland.

Below: commemorative border gate, standing where once coils of impenetrable barbed wire divided the Polish People's Republic from the German Democratic Republic. Now a cycle path links links Ahlbeck and Świnoujście inland of the beach and the sand dunes. 

There is an environmental tourist tax of €2 per person per day; in theory to pay it, one merely snaps the QR code that's visible on many posters and signs – but the page that the QR code opens is only available in German. Tough! I'd have happily paid, but as with the monolingual, cash-only UBB, Germany is behind the times. I can see now why the Polish economy is growing faster than Germany's.

Good to be back on the Baltic!

This time four years ago:
Back to the działka after lockdown

This time eight years ago:
The Network vs The Hierarchy in politics

This time nine years ago:
45 years under one roof

This time 11 years ago:
Pozytywki ponds after refurbishment

This time 12 years ago:
Mayday in the heat (don't exaggerate with the suncream!)

This time 14 years ago:
Bike ride across rural Poland

This time 17 years ago:
Into the mountains

Prague, Central Europe (2)

Two days and three nights in Prague, so many photos; here's the next batch. I'll start with a view that is most associated with the city; Hradčany castle, as seen from across the Vltava river. The scale, the magnificence of this complex of castle, palace and cathedral, is hard to match.

Below: rather like London's Routemaster bus, Prague's Tatra T3 trams (built by ČKD Tatra between 1960 and 1989) are kept running because tourists love them. And they are reliable. Their one drawback is lack of low-floor access, though modernised three-unit versions have a new low-floor centre section. Warsaw retired its fleet of Konstal 13N trams of similar vintage at the end of 2012.  

Below: a better form of transport for the well-heeled tourist, certainly one up on a horse-drawn carriage – a Škoda Felicia Super (1962-65). The 'Super' differed from the Škoda Felicia (1959-1962) by the bolt-on tailfins and a more powerful 1.2-litre engine. Although designed for five, actually carrying such a load is exerting undue pressure on the rear suspension!

Below: an even more unusual form of transportation that's largely disappeared from the world's cities is the paternoster lift. Named after the movement of rosary beads, this type of elevator moves non-stop, and careless users may suffer a gruesome fate. The accident rate for these is 30 times higher than with normal lifts. Carrying only two persons per platform, the wait for the next one is never long, but you need to judge getting on and getting off – timing is all. After Germany, Czechia is home to the largest number of paternosters in the world. Prague alone has four. (4. patro = IV piętro = 4th floor)

Below: view of the Prague suburb of Žižkov and its TV tower, as seen from Vitkov hill. Note the complete lack of high-rise blocks of flats; as far as the eye can see, the architecture is mainly 19th and early 20th century. This makes the boulevards, streets and squares of Prague's inner suburbs most attractive; and tourists tend not to stray out that far.

Below: statue of Jan Žižka, leader of the Hussite army (proto-Protestants) who defeated a Catholic crusade against them in 1420. The equestrian statue, one of the largest in the world, is central to the National Monument on Vitkov Hill, an inter-war complex celebrating the rebirth of Czechoslovak statehood. 

Left: the Žižkov TV tower, like any newcomer to a city's skyline, it is becoming increasingly accepted as decades pass. Work started in 1985 and was completed in 1992. It stands 216m (709ft) tall, so not quite as high as Warsaw's Palace of Culture (231m), but being on top of a hill it is just as prominent. An artefact of the late-communist era, this example of high-tech architecture has become the more iconic since the ten crawling babies (with barcodes for faces) by Czech artist David Černý were added in 2000. The current ones date from 2017 and weigh quarter of a tonne a piece.

Below: atop Hradčany castle, one of several epicentres of tourist magnetism. The monument is to Tomáš Garrigue Masaryk (1850 –1937) progressive political activist and philosopher who served as the first president of Czechoslovakia from 1918 to 1935. The Žižkov TV tower once again dominates the skyline.

This time last year:
Under azure, Jakubowizna

This time two years ago: 
Łady roadworks

This time three years:
S7 extension works

This time four years ago:

Back to the działka after eight weeks locked down

This time five years ago:

Vol 2. of Bevis's Betjeman biography

This time six years ago:
New roads and rails

This time seven years ago:
The Gold Train shoot - lessons learned

This time eight years ago:
The Network vs The Hierarchy in politics

This time nine years ago:
45 years under one roof

This time ten years ago:
Digbeth, Birmingham 5

This time 11 years ago:
Still months away from the opening of the S2/S79 

This time 12 years ago: 
Looking at progress along the S79  

This time 14 years ago:
Two Polands

This time 15 years ago:
A delightful weekend in the country

This time 16 years ago:
The dismantling of the Rampa

This time 17 years ago:
Flag day

Prague's cemeteries

One can learn much history from visiting cemeteries. Czech soldiers died for the Austro-Hungarian Empire in wars far from home. Bohemia, home to Slavic peoples, became part of the Holy Roman Empire (the collection of lands ruled by the Habsburg monarchy) in the 12th century. As such, the Slavic-speaking Czechs were ruled by German-speaking overlords for eight centuries before Czechoslovakia was to emerge from the rubble of the Austro-Hungarian Empire in 1918. Meanwhile, Czechs were sent to die abroad in wars that were of no consequence to the lands of the Czechs. 

Below: the First World War section of Prague's 60-hectare Olšany Necropolis (Olšanské hřbitovy), the Vojenská pohřebiště (War Cemetery). Here I come across graves dated 1913, reminding me that the two Balkan Wars (1912-1914) were among the key underlying causes of WW1. Tomorrow we celebrate the 20th anniversary of Czechia and Poland joining the EU along with Slovakia, Hungary, Lithuania, Latvia, Estonia, Croatia and Slovenia. Gazing upon these reminders of death and suffering that nationalist tensions brought to our part of the continent, one can only be happy.

A separate part of Olšany is Prague's New Jewish Cemetery in the south-east corner of the necropolis. The oldest Jewish cemetery is in the Old Town; sadly it was closed during my visit along with the historic synagogues because of Pesach holiday. Another old Jewish cemetery lies around the foot of the Žižkov TV tower, many graves were removed for the tower's construction which began towards the end of the communist era.

Below: the grave of Franz Kafka, for which the New Jewish Cemetery is most famous. It's the only grave signposted from the entrance, and is littered with pens, pencils and stones with names written upon them. The centenary of Kafka's death falls on 3 June this year. 

The New Jewish Cemetery contains the bodies of many notable Czech Jews, including industrialists and their families, some of whom are buried in spectacular mausoleums. The cemetery was spared desecration by the Nazis during their occupation of Prague.

The Soviet section of the war cemetery remains as a stark reminder that one murderous tyrant's rule over Czechoslovakia was replaced by another's. A contrast, however, between the Czech experience of the 20th century and that of Poland, Lithuania, Latvia and Estonia's centres on mass deportations. Neither Czechia nor Slovakia were subjected to these; consequently, the USSR is not viewed today with quite the same degree of visceral hatred. Having said that, Poland did not experience a 1968-style Soviet invasion as did Czechoslovakia.

Immediately recognisable as a Commonwealth War Grave, this section of the war cemetery contains the bodies of fallen pilots and prisoners of war who died in camps across Nazi-occupied Czechoslovakia. The second row here marks the seven crew members of a RAF Lancaster bomber from 301 (Polish) Squadron, shot down over Prague on 29 December 1944.

To begin to understand a nation's history, visit its cemeteries.

This time two years ago:
Got a bit of a cold (Pt II)

This time three years ago:
Identified – photographs from long ago

This time four years ago:

Things will never be the same

This time five years ago:
April's end, summer's beginning

This time six years ago:
Best April ever?

This time seven years ago:
The search for the Gold Train: Day Two

This time eight years ago:
Semi-automatic (short story)

This time 12 years ago:
So good to be back in Warsaw

This time 13 years ago:
At the President's

This time 15 years ago:
Summer's here, and the time is right...

This time 17 years ago:
Why I'm staying in Warsaw

Prague, Central Europe (1)

Magnificent but over-touristed, Prague's magnificence springs from its being spared the devastation of war and from its hilly location. Architecturally, the area of the city covered by pre-war housing extends out from the historic centre far more than Warsaw. Both capital cities cover around 500 square kilometres, but the ring of post-war high-rise housing starts much closer to the centre of Warsaw; Warsaw's population density is about 50% higher than Prague's. 

To give Varsovians a sense of Prague, imagine stretching Stary Mokotów out to Piaseczno and Żoliborz out to Czosnów and filling everything in between with 19th century mansions, modernist villas, parks and squares and broad tree-lined boulevards served by a dense network of tramways. 

The history of Prague is mind-blowingly rich, paralleling many twists and turns in Polish history, yet is so different, despite the linguistic similarities between the two nations. 

Because of its beauty, Prague has made its way up many people's bucket list; a must-see kind of a place, alongside Paris or Venice or Rome, regardless of any genuine interest they have in European history or architecture.

The UNESCO World Heritage historic centre of Prague covers over 1,100 hectares. That's more than three times bigger than the UNESCO-listed old-town parts of Warsaw, Kraków, Zamość, Toruń and Gdańsk put together. [Warsaw's Old Town is a mere 25 hectares; Kraków's heritage sites total 150 hectares. Zamość boasts 75 hectares, Toruń a further 50 hectares, whilst Gdańsk (50 hectares) only makes it to the 'Tentative' list of UNESCO World Heritage sites.

This makes the historic centre of Prague a global mega-attraction; a destination that draws mega-crowds. As a result, its authenticity and its klimat, any deep spirit of place has long evaporated. My brother managed to visit Prague soon after the end of communism, before its Disneyfication. I did the Old Town on a Monday in April; it was already rammed with tourists. Weekends in July and August will be tourist hell. All the downsides of tourism. Profit = margin x volume. 

Below: Charles Bridge in a sea of humanity (below). Tourists randomly stop to take selfies, so one has to watch out for them rather than the sights. I cannot reflect upon my experience or get into the historic groove. Despite being at the heart of "one of the world's most pristine and varied collections of architecture" (Wikipedia), I'm not experiencing it. Crocodiles of visitors anxiously look for their tour guide's flag; blank faces turning this way and that to gaze for a second or two at this 15th century palace or that 13th century church before moving on. Families in horse-drawn carriages, face-down in their phones. Shops selling rubber ducks, synthetic-fur geese, or 20cl souvenir bottles of Czech beer for €4. I cannot feel spirit of place under these conditions; I am continuously distracted. Pamphleteers hand out flyers for restaurants rather than Hussite tracts. 

But move away from the top-ranked must-see spots for the Instagram and TikTok tourism de nos jours, Prague remains very much a living, working city with a character that you appreciate best away from the tourist throng.

This, I'd posit, is the epicentre of Europe, historically and culturally. The ebb and flow of empires and religions have washed against Prague's stones.

My post-war generation has thought of Europe in terms of East and West; since the end of the Cold War Europe has returned to a more typical course. Jonathan Meade's 2008 BBC TV documentary about northern Europe, Magnetic North, delineates a wine-drinking South and the beer- and spirits-drinking North as the two faces of our continent. Divided by climate which shapes attitude to life, Meades contrasts the pleasure-loving, sun-soaked South to the grim, Gothic North; austere and hard-working.

So – where sits Prague?  Geographically, the Vltava flows into the Elbe which flows into the Baltic. Developmentally western, it was industrialised in the 19th century, with a wealth of home-grown engineers, architects and entrepreneurs. It has a beer-drinking culture par excellence. But lumping Prague together with a Brussels or a Copenhagen would be to miss its inhabitants' pohoda, or laid-back approach to life, which strikes me as being more Mediterranean than Baltic.

On three evenings in the tourist-free near-suburbs of Žižkov, Karlin and Staré Vršovice (think, say, Mokotów, Żoliborz or Saska Kępa), I could see crowded bars filled with ordinary folk enjoying life and beer and food and conversation on a scale unseen in Warsaw's suburbs. OK, the weather was perfect and the May Day holiday was approaching, but still, street life appeared as vibrant as in Southern Europe. Perhaps Prague's history (it was not repeatedly flattened and rebuilt) and its architecture (tenements on a human scale rather than semi-detached housing or soulless tower blocks) are more conducive to popping round the corner for a beer and fried cheese and dumplings with friends than sitting at home in front of the TV of an evening. 

Below: elementary school and daycare centre, Lyčkovo náměstí. Built in 1905.

I must return to Prague in mid-November or late-February; dark and damp, wet cobbles and – (I hope) empty streets. And the old Jewish cemetery won't be closed because of Pesach.

This time last year:
Landscapes around Warka

This time three years ago:
Anatomy of a nightmare

This time six years ago:
Diverse bird life returns to Jeziorki

This time seven years ago:
Gold train film shoot - day one

This time 11 years ago:
Jarosław Gowin quits his post as justice minister

This time 15 years ago:
The cycle-to-work season starts

Bystrzyca Kłodzka

Travelling by car with Moni to take the rest of her furniture and things from to Prague, we stop off at Bystrzyca Kłodzka, where my grandmother lived. I had visited the small town, not far from the Czech border, in 1961 (which I don't remember), 1966, 1976 and 1989.

Below: Moni tending the grave of her great-grandmother, my grandmother, Anna Bortnik, who died in September 1976 aged 83, two months after my third and last visit to see her. Also commemorated on the gravestone is my grandfather, Piotr Bortnik, who died of typhoid fever in Kazakhstan in 1943. Deported to the USSR from Horodziec in Wołyń in 1940, neither grandparents nor their three daughters would ever see their home again. After the war, my widowed grandmother and her eldest daughter were repatriated to Poland's 'recovered territories' of Lower Silesia once the German population had been deported. The two younger daughters made it to the West.

This pleasant corner of modern-day Poland had previously been Polish, Bohemian, Austrian, Prussian and German. Below: the view from my grandmother's grave.

Bystrzyca Kłodzka, formerly Habelschwerdt, a town dating back to the 13th century, was founded by Havel of Lemberk, a Bohemian nobleman, next to the village of Bystřice. Throughout the 13th and 14th centuries, the town's allegiance would shift between the Polish and Bohemian crowns before falling under the rule of the Habsburgs, whose lands became known as Austria/the Austrian Empire. Over the course of the three Silesian Wars, Austria lost these territories to Prussia, and so from 1763 Prussia (unified into Germany from 1871) ruled over all of Silesia, upper and lower. Bohemia and Moravia remained parts of the Austrian (Austro-Hungarian from 1867) Empire. The post-1945 border between Poland and Czechoslovakia/Czechia runs along the same line as the old border between Prussia/Germany and Austro-Hungarian Bohemia did in the 18th century after the Silesian Wars.

The Bystrzyca Kłodzka I remember from 1966 and 1976 was drab, grey and poor. Today, it is far richer town, lifted out of poverty by the collapse of communism, the rebirth of entrepreneurship, and tourism. And EU funds have also helped lift living standards here to the point where you'd not see much difference between it and a similarly sized town in provincial England.

Below: the town square, dominated by the old town hall. The sky gives the scene a Mediterranean vibe. There's not enough space between the parked cars to squeeze a bus ticket. Late Saturday afternoon and the local restaurants, cafes and ice-cream parlours are doing good business. We ate lunch in Warsztat Bistro on the square; three out of five tables occupied and a queue for takeaway. My portion was large enough for the leftovers to constitute part of my breakfast the next day. 

Downhill from the town square. In the distance, the spire of the the church of St Michael the Archangel. Szewstwo = cobbler's. Good to see traditional crafts still in business. 

Below: looking up toward the mediaeval town gate...

Left: ...with its genuine mediaeval portcullis. The spire of the bastion is currently being repaired (with EU and Norwegian funds).

Below: the Nysa Łomnicka river runs past Bystrzyca, the town's original name coming from bystra, 'fast' – as in fast-flowing. A little further on, it joins the Nysa Kłodzka.

Below: the tower of the baszta rycerska ('knights' bastion'), at the town's north-eastern gate.

Below: looking up at the town from the southern flanks of the hill on which it stands.

Below: ulica Wojska Polskiego; my grandmother and her family lived on one floor of the smaller building in the centre of this pic; outside there stood a CPN petrol station; low-octane petrol fumes permeated the air outside the flat.

A view of the church of St Michael the Archangel. The building to the left has pre-war ghost signs faintly appearing; one reads Frühstück ('breakfast'). As old signs come to light, they are neither obliterated (as they would have been done in years gone by) nor accentuated with new paint. A few street signs have smaller ones beneath giving their pre-1945 names. The past is neither negated nor dwelt upon.

Below: the characteristic wooden-framed roof of a 19th century German railway station. The line running from Breslau (Wrocław) through Bystrzyca Kłodzka (Habelschwerdt) to the Austro-Hungarian border was opened in 1875. Bystrzyca Kłodzka station has been tastefully renovated.

I was impressed with the huge developmental progress made over my lifetime in this sleepy corner of provincial Poland; the quality of people's lives greatly enhanced compared to the way things were up to the late 1980s. A land touched by trauma, totalitarianism, forced deportations of entire peoples is now peaceful and prosperous. On this week, as Poland is about to celebrate 20 years of EU membership, I give profound thanks.

This time two years ago:
Got a bit of a cold (Pt 1)

This time three years ago:
Moon and bloom

This time five years ago:

The working week in town, in pics

This time eight years ago:
Brexit: head vs heart, migration vs economy

This time nine years ago:
Golf course update

This time 12 years ago:
The Shard changes London's skyline

This time 13 years ago:
In praise of Warsaw's trams

This time 14 years ago:
Plans for the railway line to Radom

[Modernisation of a line it took 20 months to build is completed by 2022]