Borderlines by Lewis Baston – review

A present from my brother, a heartfelt thank-you for such an excellent book. Subtitled 'A History of Europe, Told from the Edges', Borderlines sets out to examine the international borders that define our continent, its history, its peoples and their identities. Lewis Baston, a British writer known for his work on political geography, set out on many trips along Europe's borders, from that between Ireland and the UK to that between Ukraine and Russia.

Baston delights in borderland anomaly stories. One such is the village of Baarle, split between Belgium and the Netherlands in such a way that the Belgian part includes 16 exclaves within Dutch territory. These exclaves, in turn, surround seven Dutch areas. Many building straddle both countries; the nationality of a given house is determined by where its front door lies. The root cause of this borderline mayhem goes back to a deal struck between two local dukes in... 1198.

Of huge fascination to me is the way fragmentation of the Austro-Hungarian Empire and its aftermath. A point I only recently got was how Germany's Anschluss with Austria in 1938 was a result of the collapse of the Habsburgs and the splitting of Austro-Hungary into Austria and Hungary. The unification of Germany in 1871 excluded the German-speaking areas of the Austro-Hungarian Empire; with that gone, the merging of Austria into a greater Germany made sense to nationalists after WW1.

One border mentioned in the book that I recently visited (in May 2024) is the one between Poland and Germany, between Świnoujście and Ahlbeck. Baston points out where the border runs, but fails to mention that right on the German side is a nudist beach (FKK-strand) that dates back to East German times. And he mentions the German train that runs into Świnoujście, but doesn't say that even on the Polish side, all signage and information is in German only, or that złotys are not accepted. 

I have also crossed twice on foot from Poland into the Czech Republic (left), and into Slovakia by car in 2008. My crossing into Ukraine was back in pre-blog days (2005) and entailed waiting a couple of hours to cross over by road.

Baston makes a one-paragraph mention of Akce Kámen, the Stalin-era Czechoslovak provocation designed to capture and interrogate its citizens trying to flee west. A false border was set up in front of the real one with West Germany; StB agents posing as guides would lead would-be defectors through forests across this false border into the hands of imposters posing as US soldiers to whom they would gladly give up information about the Czechoslovak opposition networks before being arrested. I watched a haunting BBC Screen Two drama about this in 1988 (Border) which made a powerful impression on me.

The book mentions the Austro-Hungarian Transversal Railway ("a pet project of the empire that never paid its way") long sections of which I have walked.

For anyone interested in such matters, this book is compelling, and captures the spirit of those lands divided by arbitrary lines drawn by man. Hills, concludes Baston, make for better borders than rivers. The book asks some basic questions: is one's identity defined by language or place of birth? Citizens of somewhere or anywhere? The book ends with a chapter on "the secret capital of Europe" – Chernivtsi/ Czernowitz/ Cernăuți – on, in Polish, if you are so inclined, Czerniowce. In western Ukraine, close to the border with Romania, the city was in four different countries in the 20th century (Austro-Hungary, Romania, the Soviet Union, and Ukraine). Nicknamed 'Little Vienna', Chernivtsi epitomises the essence of Europe's borderlines optimally for Baston; he mentions his feelings of "nostalgia by proxy", as he sat in a Chernivtsi square, "as if time had jumbled" – I recognise that exomnesia feeling very well.

Borderlines, Hodder Press, £25

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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 as a branch line serving Baltic beach resorts. (Usedom is the German name for the Baltic island that's called Uznam in Polish; most of the island lies 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 that means 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 – it is all in German. This is the one station located within the sovereign territory of the Republic of 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. As soon as the train was under way, she was busy issuing tickets ("two adults, two children, day return" x many) and handing out loose change from the multiples of the  acht und achtzig that the tickets cost. 

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. From Züssow, Berlin is around two hours away (€17.50) by DB InterCity.  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, the FKK-Strand. [Back in Jakubowizna, my neighbour tells me (to my great surprise) that this nudist beach existed back in communist East Germany in 1985!]

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. Again, no one to check identity cards or passports.

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. Poland is ahead when it comes to systematic digitalisation.

Good to be back on the Baltic!

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Into the mountains

To Lepiarzówka, again

A dilemma facing anyone with a desire to travel and limited spare time is this: See as many new places as you can, in the knowledge that not every one of them will have that magic 'something' - or return to a place you know has got it. Risk vs. certainty.

With the long Independence Day weekend looming, I decided to revisit a place that Moni and I had been to with our friends Krzysztof and his daughter Zosia in May 2007. Zagroda Lepiarzówka is superbly located, right at the top of a twisty dirt track climbing a mountainside, a stone's throw from the Czech border. And with views like the one below, looking down on Szarotka, a village on the Polish side.

Now that we're in Schengen, as long as we have ID with us, we can wander across into the Czech Republic and back again at will, and not just at the border crossing points. Below: Looking down towards the town of Jablunkov across the border.

Zagroda Lepiarzówka itself is a wonderful place (external view below). The restaurant and bar, heated and lit by a large log fire in a stone fireplace that dominates the room which is entirely made from wooden beams, carved in the local style. The menu is heavy on fatty pork, pickled cabbage and potato dumplings (a must-try here are kluski soszowskie, a local delicacy - potato flour dough encasing tiny cuts of finely chopped bacon with onion, rolled in breadcrumbs and deep fried. Just the thing to set you up for long walks in the mountains. With hot sauerkraut, pork shoulder or black pudding (kaszok).

Because of limited daylight (its dark at half past four), we would not go as far into the Czech Republic as we would have liked. Below: Quarter to four and the sun is sinking fast, casting an unearthly red glow on the soil. We have half an hour's walking to make it back into Poland before darkness falls.

What we did see was reminiscent of the old days; a gone-to-seed Pioneers' Hotel (below) that would make a superb location for a low-budget remake of The Shining, a beer-and-dumplings restaurant with adjacent poorly-stocked grocery store ('Closed Mondays, Tuesdays and Thursdays'). A place in this condition in Poland would be unthinkable; if left empty it would be vandalised and stripped bare in days - but in any case it would be sold off and put (with the help of EU money) to good use, like Jodłowy Dwór in the Świętokrzyskie hills that Eddie and I visited in July, another old communist-era tourist asset.

But the Czechs we met along our way were friendly, genuinely helpful, good-humoured, though slightly comical to the cosmopolitan eye. Certainly a nicer lot of people than the few Slovaks Eddie and I encountered in August. And what struck me was that the Czechs we met all understood and spoke some Polish, and accepted Polish currency, which made life in Schengen all the more comfortable. Below. The fellow on the left was very helpful in talking us through our options of getting to our destination. The chap on the right was on his way back from picking mushrooms (note full basket and rucksack with empty beer bottles).

We were blessed with four days of remarkably beautiful weather for mid-November, clear skies much of the time and temperature up to +17C. We made two ascents of Wielki Stożek (954m), the last half kilometer of climb being quite gruelling, even for our teenage daughters who had to rest every few minutes. Below: The hard climb starts here; even harder to descend. Note the border marker; I'm on the Polish side, the signs on the other side are in Czech.

At the top of Wielki Stożek (Velky Stoźek in Czech), there is a mountain shelter and restaurant, dating back to the 1920s. In the inner hall, there's a wall map (below) from communist days, notable for its depiction of our southern neighbours (CSSR - Czecho-Slovak Socialist Republic) as a terra incognita - no towns, villages, roads, tourist tracks - nothing. Simple message: do not stray across the border. The shelter restaurant is good on mountain food - cabbage soup, pierogi, fried liver, mulled beer, hot chocolate with rum.


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It's Independence Day
Another new house for Jeziorki

Michael Palin was right

About Slovakia, that is. Eddie persuaded me to drive down from Dobra to the Slovak border, and given that we're all in Schengen now, to cross over to see the place. Now, unlike my well-travelled children, I've not been to Slovakia (Czech Republic many a time, but never to Poland's south-eastern neighbour). The plan seemed like a good one, especially when linked to the chance to see other attractions on the Polish side of the border (see next post).

Above: We crossed into Slovakia without even knowing it (Lysa nad Dunajcem, the first village on the Slovak side, is so full of shops selling things to Poles that we were confused by the fact that nearly all signs were in Polish). The picture was taken from just inside the Slovak border, looking in. The customs shed is still there, the border checkpoints unmanned.

I like Schengen. I like being able to drift across national borders the way an Englishman can pop into Scotland or Wales. Extensions of personal freedom are to be welcomed! Slovakia will join the Eurozone on 1 January (not a good idea, but that's a personal macroeconomic view). Left: A post-communist (note PR - Polish Republic, not PRL - People's Republic of Poland) but pre-Schengen sign, a fading reminder that the once people would queue for hours to get from one country to the other.

Below: This sign is still valid, a reminder that, though passport controls are gone, this is border country. (Click here to see my visit to the Polish-Czech border)

After passing through Lysa nad Dunajcem, Eddie and I walked to the nearest town. Spisska Stara Ves is not a good advertisement for Slovakia, a country that took umbrage at Michael Palin's portrayal of the country in his New Europe series. The scenes of drunken excess at a village pig-slaughtering, yokels who could not remember the words of their own folk songs, provoked a strong letter to the BBC from the Slovak Ambassador to Britain. Slovakia appeared in the series to be a contrast between cultured, historic Poland and the cultured, historic Czech Republic.


Spisska Stara Ves reminded me of Victor Lewis-Smith's Ipswich. "Yes, there's plenty to do in Ipswich. You can pick your nose, or you can blink..." Compared to the villages we drove through in Poland, full of Sunday crowds going to church or socialising in the street, pursuing their hobbies or just shopping, Spisska was dead; the few people around seemed sullen, lacking purpose. It's difficult to make generalisations about a country from one small town, but this was so unlike what I'd chanced upon in the Czech Republic (a well-ordered, tidy place) that the idea of the two having ever being together in one state seems odd.

Above: What was this (evidently) state-owned building once used for? The local Higher School of Fashion and Design? Whatever is was, it's now dead. Unless you're looking for a film set to stand in for Chernobyl.

Above: another run-down institution, no doubt dating back to the days of 'Granny Austria'. Below: the bus stop advertises 'Non-Stop Taxi', presumably to get people out of here.

What else? "It's the little differences..." "Example." Traffic signs. Is this a slimline version of Alexei Sayle on his way to a Two-Tone party? Or Elwood Blues heading for the Palace Hotel Ballroom? What's the cultural significance of the pork pie hat?

We returned to Poland, stopping at Lysa nad Dunajcem to eat and do some obligatory shopping. For the equivalent of 12 quid, (50 zlotys) I bought nine half litre bottles of Zlaty Bazant, Slovakia's most famous beer (and excellent it is too - sharper and cleaner tasting than Polish beer), a plate of knedliki and goulash (knedliki are boiled dough balls), a portion of chips, two bags of crisps, four chocolate bars and a half-litre bottle of mineral water. Not bad, eh? But much of the rest has had its day - the old border trade in spirits is alive only because few Poles seem able or willing to do some hard-nosed price comparisons - international spirits brands are much the same price in Warsaw hypermarkets as they are here.

Bye bye borders

Poland and the other seven central and eastern European countries which joined the EU in 2004 implemented the Schengen Agreement at midnight on 21 December.

As a result, Poland's borders with its EU neighbours (Germany, Czech Republic, Slovakia and Lithuania) have disappeared. Cars, buses and trucks can cross into these countries without even slowing down. Theoretically, it will now be like driving from England into Wales, or from Florida into Georgia. In practice, border patrols will be able to flag down and spot-check vehicles with foreign number plates. Police will be able to continue cross-border pursuits up to 30km (20 miles) from the border.

Gone are signs like this one on the Polish-Czech border that I photographed in early May. Although it says STATE BOUNDARY CROSSING FORBIDDEN, already by spring this year there were no border guards posted at any of the checkpoints.

Above: A different picture however, on the Polish-Lithuanian border (at the end of the this road) in July this year. It was still being guarded by a patrol of well-armed Polish and Lithuanian border troops.

Old border controls still apply to airports until 29 March.

Still in place, and subject to more rigorous control, are the borders with Russia's Kaliningrad Oblast, Belarus and Ukraine. Once infamous for letting stolen cars from western Europe pass on through to markets further east, the European Commission has taken tough measures to ensure these borders are impervious to crime, smuggling and human trafficking. On three visits to the Bieszczady (south-east Poland, by Ukrainian border), I could see brand new equipment - Land Rovers, Honda scramblers, night vision kit, in use with the Polish border guard units. By the Belarusian border, the number of expensive cars on German, Belgian, Danish or Italian number plates heading east at high speeds has dwindled to a handful of genuine tourist vehicles.

Into the mountains

Much as I love the endless plains of Mazovia, I jump at any chance to get some real contours around me. And so a visit to friends in Katowice extended into a short trip to the Silesian Beskid (Beskid Śląski) mountains. We chanced upon a place called Zagroda Lepiarzówka, right on the Polish-Czech border. Marvellous hotel - 12 quid a head B&B, beer 60p a pint, excellent service, wonderful wooden folk architecture. The photo below is taken from the hotel's terrace bar. Quite a different view than what you'd see in Jeziorki.

An evening's stroll offered a taste of what was in store for the morning - a long walk into the Czech Republic. On 31 December this year, Poland and its two southern neighbours will join the Schengen countries and their mutual borders will effectively disappear - it will become like crossing from England into Wales. But today, there's still the frisson of excitement - will there be armed guards lurking behind the trees, like there are on the Polish-Belarusian or Polish Ukrainian borders? Will our documents be in order?

In the photo above, the border runs along the path. To the right of that post is the Czech Republic, to the left is Poland. The mountain in the distance is Stożek Wielki, that notch carved into its peak is the border. We walked up there, and enjoyed some mulled beer with mead in the 85 year-old mountain restaurant just beyond the peak. Thus fortified, we descended into the Czech Republic. The plan was to do a brief incursion lasting two hours and re-emerge in Poland at Stozek Maly. I'd checked the weather forecast the day before, and it showed clear skies and warm temperatures. But it was not to be. As soon as we'd crossed the (unmanned) border, the weather closed in on us (below). Soon we were enveloped in thick mist. Fortunately it was not too cold and the rain was light (I worry about my consumer electronics!)

Aesthetically, the Czech incursion was a success. Walking through giant silent forests shrouded in dense mist put me in mind of primordial scenes; hundred-foot high Permian horsetails and three-foot dragonflies. Recent history is also interesting. I recalled a British TV drama about Czechoslovakian dissidents making their way to the West German border, getting across, being greeting by US soldiers and debriefed by the CIA - only to discover that it was all a set-up entrapment plot and that in reality they had not left Czechoslovakia at all... With such thoughts in mind, we rambled on following the tourist tracks until we came across a very CSSR-type establishment, a village shop that was virtually unchanged since communist days (apart from the modern selection of confectionary on display and the shopkeeper's friendly manner). We stocked up on chocolate and wafers and headed back up the mountainside towards Poland, climbing onward and upward until we made the border as planned at Stożek Mały. Once again, the border crossing point (below) was unmanned. Notices stated that from between 06:00 and 22:00, there should be an official present to ensure that locals crossing the border do not exceed their quotas of alcohol, tobacco or meat products, that their motorcycle engines do not exceed 50cc, or that their agricultural produce is only for local consumption. We were relieved that the booth was empty; in eight months time it will be history.