Jakubowizna to Kraków in the snow

Tips for train travel in Poland during adverse weather conditions.

The programme: Leave the działka at 12:20, catch the 12:49 local train from Chynów to Warka arriving 13:01; catch the 13:19 Kolberg express from Warka to Kraków, arriving at 16:40; then walk (80 minutes) to the hotel.

The reality: more snow fell overnight; it took much effort to push open the front door just to peak out. Since dawn, I’d been following the train portals to see how things were going. Initially – it seemed – not as bad as yesterday, just five to seven minutes’ delay shown – but I feared that the situation would deteriorate. I gave myself an extra few minutes to trudge to Chynów station, given the unploughed state of the street. Along the way, I accepted an invite to New Year’s champagne at my neighbours’, which was nice.

Arriving at Chynów station, I found that – despite what I’d just seen on the portals before setting off – my local train to Warka was now showing a delay of 25 minutes. Meanwhile, the onward express, the Kolberg, from Warka to Kraków, running south from Warsaw along the same track, was delayed by 15 minutes. I was anxious that the local train could be held at any of the intervening stations with a passing track to let the express through. These are Piaseczno, Czachówek Południowy or even Chynów itself – to let the delayed express through. Missing the Kolberg would mean waiting for the Sienkiewicz, which arrives in Kraków at half past six or the Żeromski, which arrives at half past eight (assuming they’re on time).

But all was well – my anxiety relieved to a great extent by the ‘find your train on the map’ function on Portal Pasażera (below - click to expand).

Here, I could see in real time that the Kolberg’s delay was increasing, and that there was no chance that it could catch up and overtake my local train before it reached Warka.

Arriving in Warka with a 25-minute delay, I still had to wait half an hour for the Kolberg, whose delay was becoming longer and longer. As the station clock shows, the train rolled in 36 minutes late.

But no matter. I boarded it, dumped my coat and rucksack on my allocated seats* and made for the Wars restaurant car. 

Here, a digression about the Wars service. It is excellent. Fresh food, freshly prepared. The Kolberg, which had left Olsztyn Główny three hours earlier, has a dining car guaranteed because the service is operated by a Dart electrical multiple unit (always in car no. 3).

 A fellow diner, into his second beer, stood up to applaud the chef for his sandwich making skills. “I too worked in gastronomy in my youth,” he said, “and I am full of admiration for the way you cut and filled those sandwiches”. My order of meatballs, groats, cabbage and beetroot, took all the way from Warka to Lesiów to prepare – but it was fresh, hot, cooked just for me. Washed down by a craft ale, and costing a total of 51 złotys (£9.35), the culinary experience was outstanding, sitting down to eat at a table on a porcelain plate with a steel knife and fork. No plastic, no microwaved rubbish; this meal was cooked to order on the train. 

"Dinner in the diner

Nothing could be finer

Than to have your ham and eggs

In Carolina"

I beg to differ. Pulpety, kasza, surówki i piwo jasne craftowe from Browar Olbracht while crossing from Mazovia into Świętokrzyskie take some beating!

I also found time to praise the chef – this really is one of the highest-quality dining experiences on a train that one can have in Europe. I most certainly appreciate it. In the UK, you'd be standing at a buffet counter eating crisps, packaged sandwiches and tinned lager and paying more for it.

Dusk soon fell (today is the earliest sunset of the year in the Northern Hemisphere), and from Skarżysko-Kamienna, the rest of the journey was in darkness.

Below: somewhere south of Radom, soon after sunset.

I dozed off in a happy state to wake just north of Kraków - the train arrived one hour and 13 minutes late. From the station to my hotel, near the Kraków Technology Park, was a 7.6km walk. Just the thing. The first part of the walk was the epitome of European winter urban style - walking along the Planty avenue that rings the city's Old Town.

Below: tram in the snow. European civilisation.

Below: Wawel Castle - perhaps the most significant single building to the Polish psyche. Think Edinburgh or Windsor Castles; it's of that rank.

Below: along the Vistula's bank. The same river that passes within 10km of my działka, that flows through Warsaw and Toruń, reaching the Baltic in Gdańsk.

* The train was almost full on the stretch between Warsaw and Radom; I managed to get two seats to myself thanks to a glitch in the booking system. Buying a ticket online, you are given a mere two and half minutes to make the payment. The process includes selecting your discount, choosing your seat, typing in your name, reading the terms and conditions, opening your banking app and authorising the transaction. Two and half minutes - not enough. My first attempt to book is timed out – but when I try again and come to select my seat, I see it’s been taken. By me! But not paid for... so I take the aisle seat next to it, this time manage to make the payment in time. Boarding the train I find I have both seats to myself for the whole journey, which makes sleeping easier! Note to InterCity’s IT team – do you honestly think two and half minutes is adequate to make the payment? Make it five. Until then I'll use this trick to book myself an additional seat adjacent to the one I've paid for.

This time two years ago:
Solar promise dashed

This time five years ago:
Meditations on West Ealing and Change.

This time seven years ago:
Warwick University alumni meet in Warsaw

This time eight years ago:
Pluses and minuses of PKP InterCity

This time nine years ago:
When transportation breaks down

This time 14 years ago:
Full moon closest to Earth

Winter proper

Snow outside the window this morning, with much more snow and frost forecast for the whole of this week, culminating in temperatures falling to -13C early on Wednesday morning.

With the onset of winter proper come transport problems. The train I caught from town to Chynów today was delayed by 67 minutes. I had arrived at the station for the next one, due an hour later, so the real inconvenience to me was not too bad. Below: rushing through the snow, between Zalesie Górne and Ustanówek station.

A quick look at Rozklad-pkp.pl (rozklad means 'timetable' - but it can also mean 'falling apart' or 'decomposition') shows the last three trains heading south through Chynów have been subject to an average delay of 20-25 minutes.

Tomorrow, I'm off to Kraków on business, back Tuesday evening... I'm anxious that this trip (Chynów-Warka-Kraków, Kraków-Warka-Chynów) will not go smoothly. I'll catch an earlier train to Warka and keep my fingers crossed that nothing goes terribly wrong... Worrying doesn't help, so a walk at dusk comforts my soul. Gratitude that a winter travel plan is my only worry needs to be expressed!

Below: at the end of the asphalt on my street. Through the portal and into the magic. The third day in a row (of eight) with the sun setting here at 15:24, the plateau of afternoon darkness.

 

Below: I just can't get enough of this klimat.

Below: still the snow falls. No footprints - only mine. Tracks of deer and hare - no elk today.

Below: this is why I am here - winter, spring, summer or autumn - resonating with my consciousness. Neither Jeziorki nor Perivale have anything to show more fair.

Such a contrast with Warsaw's New Town. The magic's strong here and there. Spirit of place.

This time two years ago:
Goodbye to All That

[Two years on, Lidl is still managing to bring in the Cheddar!]

This time five years ago:
Half an inch of snow brings chaos to the UK

This time six years ago:
Łódź Fabryczna station opens again

This time eight years ago:
Pluses and minuses of PKP

This time nine years ago:
When transportation breaks down

This time ten years ago:
Take me back to Tulsa

This time 13 years ago:
Another book launch

This time 14 years ago:
Jeziorki in the 16th Century

This time 15 years ago:
Rotten weather, literally

City centre notes

Most of my life has been spent living in the suburbs - 36 years in the West London suburb of the Borough of Ealing; four years in the suburbs of Coventry (including two on the campus of Warwick University) and 25 in the Warsaw district of Ursynów - it's 'green' parts - Pyry and Jeziorki. And of those years, 37 have been spent living in detached houses. No one living on the other side of my four walls. The past few years have seen me spending more and more time in the countryside, which I am coming to prefer over suburbia. I used to think suburbia was the best place to live; today - I'm not so sure, as housing density and traffic increases.

The past four days I have been cat-sitting at Moni's flat just off Warsaw's New Town (Nowe Miasto) - that's 'new' as opposed to Warsaw's Old Town - 15th century rather than 13th (rebuilt after the war). Below: looking at ulica Freta from the New Town market square, rush hour.

This is an entirely new experience to me - staying for more than a single hotel-night in a city centre -  being in my daughter's flat, with kitchen, pet, routine, office work online - and city-centre life. Strange.

Left: just 400m from Moni's front door, the Barbakan marks the border between the New Town (ahead) and the Old Town (behind). Built in 1540 and rebuilt after WW2. Fewer tourists penetrate the New Town, preferring the more commercialised Old Town, its market square and the castle square. Those that make it beyond the Barbakan tend to be more curious and less prone to boozy excesses.

So it's quiet - but not silent. On the działka, the only things that make any noise are the fridge and my bedroom radiator as they cool and warm; other than that, there are no 'bumps in the night'. In the flat, however, I have the impression of being in a hotel or student halls of residence - beyond these four walls, there are people - things going on. 

Through my sleep, I dimly hear somebody's alarm clock going off. People are walking up and down the stairs. Someone's hoovering - where? there's a flat upstairs, downstairs, to the left and to the right right. Little boxes all around. People separated from me not me hundreds of metres, but by the thickness of a wall.

The flats are are of various sizes (Moni's is very small - one room, tiny kitchen, tiny bathroom), the building's just four floors high - so no lift. But for one person - entirely adequate, cheap to heat and light.

In the country, I can go for a 90-minute walk and literally not encounter any other human being during that time. I can revel in the solitude, the peace, the luxury of uninterrupted trains of thought.

But here, I am a stone's throw from a UNESCO World Heritage Site. My evening strolls - either through dark, cobbled backstreets that could be from an Expressionist film-set, or else along brightly lit, car-free thoroughfares decorated for Xmas and full of tourists and revellers - are quite magical. A different magic to that of silent misty forests and orchards in the encroaching dusk. 

Neither forms of magic are on offer in suburbia, all rushing cars, muddy puddles where pavements should be.

Living so close to a street full of excellent restaurants, cafes and bars, living one minute rather than 30 minutes walk from the nearest grocery shop, a Carrefour Express, however, is costly. The temptation to live it up is great. Crisps and a beer? Don't mind if I do. Good bottle of wine?

After a few days' city-centre living, I must say I can see the appeal. Massively. A great counter-balance to rural life, but so much better than suburban life which has little of the civilisation of the city, and little of the comforting calm of the countryside. Suburbia is not what it was.

This time two years ago:
First snow for ages!

This time three years ago:

Politics and personal responsibility

This time four years ago:
Consciousness, memory and spirit of place

This time five years ago:
Polish Perivale

This time six years ago:
Power in the vertical

This time ten years ago:
And still they come [anomalous flashbacks that is]

This time 11 years ago:
Classic glass

This time 12 years ago:
What's the Polish for 'pattern'?

This time 14 years ago:
"Rorate caeli de super nubes pluant justum..."

Matter, materialism, metaphysics and magic

I wake up in the night for a wee, touch my phone to check the time. It's 3:33am. Three three three. Half of six six six - half of the Number of the Beast. One night later, on the train to Szczecin, I wake up for a wee, touch my phone to check the time. It's 3:33am. Physicist Richard Feynman would dismiss this as a meaningless coincidence; biologists would point to a well-functioning circadian clock. But I feel that in our Cosmos, swimming in a sea of consciousness, there could be just a little bit more to this.

"Tell me Rabbi - what could such a sign... mean?"

Since then, I've had a couple of conversations about frequency - in the context of tinnitus and binaural beats - so is 333 significant?... I look up 333 Hz. This: "The 333 Hz frequency is said to recalibrate your DNA, opening up some sort of new consciousness for the listener." Pseudoscientific woo-woo? [Here's a classic example] But should I be so quick to dismiss, just because of the language in which this framed ('ascended masters', 'angelic messages')? Is there anything worth considering about numerology?

"How does God speak to us?"

Science - based on rational materialism - is running into a wall. This, of course, is not to belittle the achievements brought to us by science that enrich our lives - in the technology we use every day. Our lives are longer, healthier, fuller of things, more comfortable, less inconvenient, all thanks to science - but have we not lost something along the way? Rational materialism has also impoverished our lives, robbing them of much magic. 

And yet there are too many open questions, preventing mankind from having a complete understanding of the Universe. And it is here, through the cracks, through the gaps in our knowledge, that the magic shines back through. The 'God of the Gaps' - coming up with supernatural explanations for what we cannot rationally explain, was in full retreat since the Enlightenment, as more and more gaps were closed by scientific reason. But in recent decades, those gaps - those unanswered questions - seem to be growing in number and in size.

Primarily, these questions pertain to the most fundamental levels; the scope and nature of what we currently perceive as the observable Universe and all that is in it, down to the subatomic scale. 

Let's start with what came before the Big Bang and the ultimate fate of this Universe - and is it one of many? Was the Big Bang one of a series of Big Bangs - indeed, an infinite series thereof? Don't know.

What is the nature of time? Can entropy be reversed? Is faster-than-light travel possible via wormholes or warp drives? Are there only three dimensions plus time - or are there ten dimensions plus time, but we happen to be unaware of the remaining ones? Is there another, parallel, universe just five minutes ahead of our one? Or five days or seconds ahead?

And what is the nature of matter? Does the Standard Model encompass every subatomic particle that there is - or only those that we can currently perceive? Although it is believed to be theoretically self-consistent, it leaves some phenomena unexplained. In particular, the Standard Model is inconsistent with the theory of gravitation as described by General Relativity.

And what is dark energy? Without it, galaxies would not be flying apart from each other at an ever-faster pace. We can neither see it nor measure it - "dark energy is an unknown form of energy that affects the universe on the largest scales ... [t]he best current measurements indicate that dark energy contributes 68% of the total energy in the present-day observable universe." What is dark matter? Without it, galactic clusters would tear apart. Something invisible is holding them together. A galaxy must have several hundred times more mass in it than the stars alone can explain. The rest? "A hypothetical form of matter thought to account for approximately 85% of all the matter in the universe." Like dark energy, we can neither see it nor measure it.

Onto biology. What explains the leap from non-life to life? Does it happen frequently or rarely across this and other galaxies? And if frequently, and that life evolves into civilisations, "where is everybody?" - to quote Enrico Fermi. Or maybe they are here, but we can't (or shouldn't) see them?

But the biggest mystery of them all - and the biggest ontological divide between philosophers and scientists - is the nature of consciousness itself. Is it an emergent property, found only within brains that have evolved within complex life-forms? Or is it a fundamental property of all matter, along with mass and spin? Or even a fundamental property of the Cosmos, along with matter and energy?

All science has right now are 'currently accepted theories'. Accepted - with caveats - until a better theory is presented.

In the meanwhile, we can dream, imagine, speculate freely and widely. What if we can affect our material reality by way of consciousness alone? Affecting our fate, our health, our comfort?

Coming back to numerology, it's worth taking a peek at this section of the Wikipedia page on the subject, from the scientific perspective.

I'll mention a quote from British mathematician I.J. Good (1916-2009), he was a cryptologist at Bletchley Park with Alan Turing. Born Isadore Jacob Gudak to a Polish Jewish family in London, he later anglicised his name. The originator of the concept now known as 'intelligence explosion', he served as consultant on supercomputers to Stanley Kubrick, on 2001: A Space Odyssey. 

Good wrote: "There have been a few examples of numerology that have led to theories that transformed society... it would be fair to say that numerology was the origin of the theories of electromagnetism, quantum mechanics, gravitation.... So I intend no disparagement when I describe a formula as numerological."

Good implies that intuition is guiding minds to formulate materially useful solutions, and that attributing meaning to numbers is part of that process.

So then - 333 Hertz. Here's a bit of flaky woo-woo - it might just work...

Also - if you experience tinnitus, I recommend visiting Tomasz Szynalski's site, with this useful tone generator (use it to find the frequency of your tinnitus - mine comes in at around 8,500 Hz). Now, if you play the above piece of music and set the tone generator to 333 Hz, the effect is greater...

This time last year:
Short roads to nowhere

This time two years ago:
Mole control

This time three years ago:
Poland's education paradox

This time four years ago:
What I was going to say at COP24 (but didn't)

This time five years ago:
Milton Keynes

This time six years ago:
Warsaw by night, early winter

This time nine years ago:
Burn less gas and do Ukraine a favour

This time 12 years ago:
Early evening atmosphere

This time 14 years ago:
Toponyms - how many names has Jeziorki?

This time 15 years ago:
On the road to Białystok

"From Stettin in the Baltic"

"From Stettin in the Baltic to Trieste in the Adriatic, an iron curtain has descended across the Continent. Behind that line lie all the capitals of the ancient states of Central and Eastern Europe. Warsaw, Berlin, Prague, Vienna, Budapest, Belgrade, Bucharest and Sofia..." Winston Churchill's words, uttered in Fulton, Missouri, in March 1946, come back to me whenever I visit Szczecin. Poland's post-Yalta location, hundreds of kilometres west of its prewar borders.

Incidentally, Szczecin is not actually in the Baltic, nor on the Baltic nor even by the Baltic; it lies on the south side of the Szczecin Lagoon (zalew Szczeciński) and is 66km (41 miles) by navigable waterway from the open sea. That's further inland than the Canary Wharf is from the North Sea.

The architects of the postwar order drew up Poland's western borders along the Oder (Odra) and Neisse (Nysa) rivers. Stettin, which had for centuries served as Berlin's port, found itself in postwar communist Poland. Yet the city stands on the other side of the Oder. Any residual German irredentism is now history; the 1990 Final Settlement with Germany made that clear. Stalin had gifted Stettin for Poland in exchange for keeping Königsberg (now Kaliningrad) as an ice-free port for the Soviet navy.

Today's Szczecin has many reminders of its history. The building below, now an educational facility, had served as a reception point of the state repatriation office (Państwowy Urząd Repatriacyjny). Poles from the east of prewar Poland, having been forcibly resettled in an act of ethnic cleansing, were moved west to replace the German population that had itself been ethnically cleansed. However, this building served less typical cases... (Click to enlarge to see the ghost sign)

Below: zooming into the ghost sign above the side gate: "Reception point for repatriates from the West - Stage 2". "Repatriates from the West" would have been members of the Polish armed forces in the UK as well as Poles released from PoW and forced-labour camps in Germany, all of whom had lost their homes in eastern Poland. 

In the immediate aftermath of war, the Germans who had not fled the advancing Red Army were forcibly ousted from lands that had been given to Poland in the Yalta and Potsdam settlements. The Polish repatriates were shipped into empty cities and given the choice of prime properties - few chose Szczecin, and those that did were initially reluctant to invest it its future, "in case the Germans ever came back." And so a city of almost 400,000 in 1939, had a population only half that number well into the 1960s. To this day, Szczecin's population density is far lower than other Polish cities - nearly three times lower than Warsaw's, for example. Yet Szczecin (now back up to its pre-war population) is more populous than Bydgoszcz, Lublin or Białystok.

Szczecin has improved massively in recent years as a result of large public- and private-sector investment. It is still under construction, with many roads in the centre closed for refurbishment. Wide avenues designed by Haussmann (he of the Paris renovation of the 1850s and '60s) give the city a prosperous air; large villas line the avenues, there are plenty of trees and lawns and parkland. Today, investors tend to be from Scandinavia or Germany, focusing on manufacturing and logistics (massively). There's little going on by way of shared services or business-process outsourcing here. And few office buildings.

After an investment conference at the new football stadium on the edge of town, I took a train to the port of Świnoujście, just 66km away from Szczecin by river, but by train, the two are separated by journey times from 1hr 21mins (the fastest InterCity connection) to 1hr 40mins on the all-stations local service. All trains stop at Goleniów, for Szczecin's international airport, and at the seaside resort of Międzyzdroje. My local train arrived over 20 minutes late; it was held at Goleniów to let a massively delayed InterCity service through.

Świnoujście itself is another geographical oddity served up by the postwar settlement. The port town straddles the river Świna; in English, it would be called 'Swinmouth'. The two parts of Świnoujscie are connected only by pair of ferries that shuttle across the strait every 20 minutes. Car traffic is restricted to local vehicles on ZSW number plates (or with permission from the local authority) between 4am and midnight. The only alternative to this journey of 675 metres is a 235km (145 mile) international jaunt, all the way around the Szczecin lagoon, through Germany and back into Poland. Or cross at night (the ferry offers a 24-hour service).

Fearing that I might be stranded on the far shore and would miss my night train back to Warsaw, I decided not to cross into Świnoujście proper, but just to explore the port that lies on the eastern bank of the Świna strait. The ferry will be augmented by a road tunnel (to be opened next year). Sadly, it won't be for pedestrians or cyclists, who will have to take a bus or stick with the ferry. 

Below: the ramp onto the Bielik ('white-tailed sea eagle') II, one of four vessels (named Bielik I to IV) serving the route. Between 04:20 and 23:40, two ferries shuttle backwards and forwards every 20 minutes, between 00:00 and 04:00 they go once every 40 minutes and will take all cars for free, wherever they're from.

I walked from Świnoujście station to Świnoujście Port, the final station along the line. Actually, the two can be considered one station, joined by a very long platform. Only local trains run into the Port station; InterCity trains terminate at the main Świnoujście station, and if you want to take a ferry to Scandinavia from the port having arrived by InterCity, you have to walk to the Port station. It's just seven minutes on foot, two minutes by local train, but there are only five pairs of trains a day serving it (really timed for the convenience of the port's employees). Below: the last train of the day sets off from Świnoujście Port back to Szczecin. Behind the station and its limited, bus-stop like facilities, stands the ferry terminal. The place reminded me of a modern version of Boulogne-Maritime and Boulogne-Ville stations back in the 1960s.

More unusual still is the station across the Świna in the main part of town - Świnoujście Centrum. The only station lying within Poland's borders that is connected to no other Polish station, and the only one to be served exclusively by a foreign rail operator - in this case, UBB. Below: image from Google Maps Street View showing the station in the tourist season. The station is located at the end of the built-up part of town, on the edge of a forest belt that stretches up to the border itself. It's 1,500m from here to the border. An hourly local service connects Świnoujście Centrum with Züssow, calling at several German seaside resorts along the way. 

Back to Świnoujście's main station to catch my night train back to Warsaw. The carriages arrive with 40 minutes in hand, so good time to settle in, change into me jim-jams and be lying comfortably in bed as the train sets off. Below: the rake of coaches making up the train arrives at the platform; the electric loco that will haul it stands to the right, in retro PKP livery. Sleeper cars at the rear.

Below: the diesel shunter that has lined up the coaches departs. The rear coach, visible in this photo, has full sleeper facilities (a bed with bedding); the penultimate coach has just couchette sleeping (nothing more than a surface to lie down in your day clothes; no bedding, six berths to a compartment.). Every other coach is standard - and I can tell you that trying to sleep while seated is no fun whatsoever. I would recommend paying the extra for a two-berth compartment rather than one for three - this train was full despite it being December.

Here's my train's itinerary on the timetable (click to enlarge). Departs Świnoujście at 21:04, due to arrive in Warsaw (Gdańska - as W-wa Zachodnia's being dug up) at 06:25. Plenty of time to sleep. This is a named service, the Uznam (lit. 'I will recognise' or 'I will acknowledge') - actually, Uznam is the name of the island upon which the main part of Świnoujście is located - Usedom in German. My train arrived just nine minutes late. And W-wa Gdańska is perfectly connected with the Metro.

If nine and half hours aren't enough, how about taking Poland's longest rail journey? From the country's extreme north-west corner right down to the south-east - the Przemyślanin ('a citizen of the town of Przemyśl') takes 13 and half hours, calling at Szczecin, Zielona Góra, Wrocław, Katowice, Kraków and Rzeszów along the way. Linking six of Poland's 17 provincial capitals! There's a dining car, so you can have dinner before going to sleep, as well as breakfast on waking up - all on the same train.

My visit to Szczecin - only my fourth or fifth ever - certainly deserves a repeat, and I would very much like to see the main part of Świnoujście. Both in summer next time!

This time last year:

Gratitude and peace of mind

This time six years ago:
Early winter travels: Warsaw-Kraków-Poznań-Warsaw

This time seven years ago:
Patriotism and nationalism: what's the difference?

This time eight years ago:
Poland's progress in the international rankings

This time nine years ago:
The Transparency International Corruption Perception Index for 2013

Also this time ten years ago:
Poland's rapid advance up the education league table: PISA 2013

This time 11 years ago:
Life expectancy across the EU: more comparisons

Night Crossings

Level crossings play their part in the aesthetics of railway travel. Every now and then, the regular rhythm of local comings and goings is disturbed by the clanging of bells, flashing of red lights and the dropping of barriers, announcing the imminent arrival of a train. The lights and bells begin more than three minutes before the train comes through, the barriers descend soon after. Few drivers bother to switch their engines off (it would save 2,400 revolutions of the typical engine idling at 800rpm - for a car with a two-litre engine that's 4,800 litres of emissions cut out, not to mention reduced fuel consumption and wear and tear on the cylinders). The train passes, the barriers rise, and several cars accelerate away. 

With an instinctive knowledge of train timetables, it's possible to judge which times to avoid - or when to come and snap some photos. Chynów station experiences a rush of trains around the half-past the hour mark, both local and express services passing both ways.

Now the Warsaw-Radom line is complete, nearly all ungated level crossings have been upgraded to the latest standards, even pedestrian-only crossings, such as the ones at Ustanówek or Krężel have little barriers and flashing lights. This makes things safer for local traffic. Accidents at level crossings are mercifully falling thanks to the EU-funded railway modernisation programme.

Darkness falls early; all the commuter trains to and from Warsaw pass through Chynów at night. Now's the time to get night shots from the local level crossings.

Below: the crossing between Chynów (in the foreground) and Węszelówka (across the tracks).  A double-decker przyspieszony (literally 'rushed' or 'hurried') limited-stop Koleje Mazowieckie train on its way to Skarżysko-Kamienna via Radom. When running to time, this services gets from W-wa Śródmieście to Chynów in just 39 minutes.

Below: the crossing between Chynów (foreground) and Widok across the tracks. In the distance, the lights of Chynów station. The passing train is the Koleje Mazowieckie all-stations service from Warsaw to Radom. It's often late as it has to make way for prioritised express trains, being held at stations with an extra track - Piaseczno, Czachówek Południowy, Chynów or Warka on this stretch.

Below: the crossing between Widok (foreground) and Chynów opposite. The InterCity express Orłowicz is on its way from Kraków to Olsztyn. This is the same crossing as the one above, taken minutes later from the other side of the tracks. In the distance, the lights of Chynów station.

Below: the crossing between Jakubowizna (foreground) and Chynów on the other side. A loco-hauled InterCity express, the San, bound for Przemyśl rushes through, approaching Chynów station.

All photos taken with my Nikon Coolpix A, hand-held with a one-second exposure (braced but no tripod) at f/2.8. This long-discontinued camera is excellent for nocturnal photography.

This time seven years ago:
Catesby Tunnel

This time nine years ago:
Crumbling King Coal, Katowice

This time ten years ago:
Street cries of Old Poland

This time 11 years ago:
The gorgeousness of Warsaw at dusk

This time 12 years ago:
I'm so glad I'm living in Warsaw

This time 13 years ago:
Candid photography

This time 14 years ago:
Archival photos of Jeziorki's Rampa in action

This time 15 years ago:
Red sky in the morning...

New York City really has it all

As the executor, lawyers and real-estate people left my late parents-in-law apartment, I locked the door after them and ran into the bedroom. I slid open the wardrobe door and beheld my father-in-law's suits. Yes. There it is - the one that caught my eye. Double-breasted, just half a shade of gray lighter than regular, made a whole lot of difference. I tried it on... long in the leg, a bit tight in the shoulder and baggy round the middle... Nice cloth though. Impeccable. Pockets - empty... but, hey! there's another inside pocket, zippered, and inside it... - a slim billfold! Twenties and tens! Time to celebrate.

This is a real swank place downtown - shame it's got to be sold. Such a shame. I can see our future here. I'm admiring the furniture, the bathroom, the view...

I come across an electric iron and my mother-in-law's old sewing box, and so I tuck in the trouser cuffs, iron a crease into them and hold the turn-up with a few pins - just a temporary shortening before taking these to an alteration tailor. I looked in the full-length mirror, yeah, looks OK. I choose a silk tie, cerise in color, and step outside, take the elevator down to the street. The concierge at the front desk gives me a knowing look - bet he's seen the old man wearing this suit before - it catches the eye. 

I head along the sidewalk towards Lower Manhattan. It's a warm Friday afternoon in spring, the Stock Exchange, just a few blocks away, will be closing for business. It's time for some dinner, a grill, steak. A drink or two. There hadn't been time for lunch. As I approach Wall Street, I'm looking at the traffic. Hey - a Rolls-Royce! From England! My eyes follow its progress. Now that's elegance there among the Plymouths and Oldsmobiles and Fords. A news stand. England, eh? I see a pink newspaper standing out from all the others. I buy a copy of yesterday's Financial Times, flown in from London, which I fold up and put under my arm. As I glance down, I notice my shoes are scuffed - they don't go with the suit. Ruin the effect for anyone who'd notice. Shoeshine boys are always around when you don't need them but today - ah, there's one across the street, corner of Broadway and Pine - I take a seat, put my feet up, unfurl my paper and read.

Well - that's interesting ... a piece about the Growing Importance of Leisure ... my father-in-law was telling me about this before they passed. I cast my eye down the boards, which stocks are up, which are down; only a few familiar corporations, all these English firms I don't know, roll my tongue around their quaint-sounding names... Reminded me of my visits over there with the Air Force, and later on a sales visit, demonstrating reconnaissance cameras at the big air show. Shoes done. Not perfect, but then they're not new, but much better than before. Another quarter well spent.

By now, a stream of people is flowing out of the Stock Exchange building. A  fleet of four gray sedans pull up outside - government automobiles, I'd guess... I turn left and merge into the growing tide of humanity leaving their offices. Up a ramp and through the revolving doors, into the lobby of the _____ Hotel. I walk into the bar, take a seat at the last empty table and open my paper again. A waiter comes up, I order a large, very dry, dry martini. It arrives. Yes. Icy and strong. I glance at the menu. Two guys come up an ask if the remaining seats are vacant. "Help yourselves!" 

"I see you're following the English stock market - how are things over there?" "Leisure." I replied. "That's the growth category. People with more time and more money than ever before," I said, repeating what I'd just read. Waiter came over again. One guy ordered a Michelob, the other a Rolling Rock. I ordered a steak, fillet stake, medium rare, with fries, spinach and baked tomatoes. "Oh, and a beer - make it a Rolling Rock. Reminds me of Kentucky."

"Let me introduce myself," said the guy who'd ordered the Michelob. "Henry Bettendorf Jnr," he said, passing me a business card. "From the Buckeye State." His associate did likewise, shaking my hand. "Look - I wasn't intending to engage in commerce this evening..." I mumbled, reaching into the suit's inside pocket, I fished out a my father-in-law's business card that I'd found along with the billfold. "This belonged to my late father-in-law," I said, just showing it to them close-up, but not giving it up. "I'm taking over the business now." They both looked at me, slightly perplexed, looked at each other, looked back at me -

"RRDANK!" What was that sound? "RDANK!" A sudden metallic noise. Jolted. I'm looking around the restaurant... I wake up. It's gone. It's 7:15 am. Monday November 28, 2022. Jakubowizna, Poland. The radiator in my bedroom makes that sound as its steel casing expands, shortly after switching itself on or off. I am annoyed, not least because I really wanted to find out more - how would this dream conclude? It's one of those 'three-unity' dreams, where time, place and action are all consistent; New York City, spring, 1956 or '57? Who had been my parents-in-law? How had they died? Who had I been?

This time last year:
Where the two contracts end

This time last year:
In praise of the Nikon D3500
[The best value-for-money digital single-lens reflex camera ever]

This time three years ago:
Agnieszka Holland's Mr Jones reviewed

This time four years ago:
The Earth is flat

This time five years ago:
50th Anniversary of the Fiat 125p

This time six years ago:
Fidel Castro's death divides the world

This time seven years ago:
London to Edinburgh by night bus

This time nine year ago:
The Regent's Canal, London

This time 11 years ago:
An end to the entitlement way of thinking

This time 12 year:
West Ealing - drab and sad end of town

This time 13 years ago:
To Poznań by train

This time 15 years ago:
Late autumn drive-time 

Win-win-win-win-win

The title of today's post? I'm talking about charity shops. 

Win 1: For people whose houses are full of clothes and items they no longer need - they can take them to a charity shop, thus decluttering their houses, freeing up space.

Win 2: People who donate such items to charity shops have the added satisfaction of feeling that they have done good. Giving away items with a fungible value instead of money. Throwing them away (especially if they can have a second use) is morally reprehensible.

Win 3: People who have a need can be buying things cheaper when used versions can be bought,  entirely adequate to their needs.

Win 4: By paying for an item at the charity shop, the buyer's money is giving to a good cause; the money raised through the sale helps society.

Win 5: The environment gains by re-assigning an unused utility rather than unnecessarily wasting natural resources to create a new one. The circular economy in action.

Case study: when pootling around the house or działka in winter, I like wearing a warm cardigan with a zip at the front and two pockets. I have a cotton one and a fleece one. A third would come in handy. I could also do with another warm shirt with breast pocket. So, finding myself across the road from Warsaw's Westfield Arkadia shopping centre the other week, I popped in to the Sue Ryder Foundation charity shop. I knew it was there, having interviewed the foundation's vice-president in April; Westfield have given the charity some prime space as an act of corporate social responsibility, for which I applaud the company. 

Inside, the shop is well-lit, clean and tidy, and well-staffed by friendly and helpful volunteers - and full of shoppers. I ask an assistant about shirts my size with long sleeves and pockets, and he disappears into the stock room and returns with several for me to look at. Meanwhile I'm looking through a rack of cardigans and find a lovely one -  by Pierre Cardin, in 100% Merino wool. Try them on - they fit - I pay 68zł (49zł for the cardigan, 19zł for the shirt). £12.50 in total. Very happy with both. I check the Cardin Cardigan online - cheapest price is 430zł, regular store price 500zł. So Win 3 for me. The Sue Ryder Foundation has my money to carry on its good work in Poland; no resources had to be used up to generate a new product for me, and the donor has more space in his wardrobe along with the warm feeling of having made a contribution to society.

I don't try to find excitement in the labels that I wear, but there is a sense of satisfaction at bagging such a bargain. [The shirt, incidentally, is from Seven Seas Copenhagen - not a brand I'd heard of, but paying 19zł instead of €20 is a snip.]

My late mother would have loved this cardigan (a word that she'd pronounce kadrygan), especially the deep, rich, thick texture of the wool which she'd have described as mięsisty ('meaty' or 'beefy'), though she'd have preferred a lighter colour. She was also a regular shopper at the charity shops of Ealing - which is where all her clothes ended up after her death.

I cannot recommend charity-shop purchases highly enough. In the UK, I'd buy most of my jackets, coats and trousers from the Children's Society shop on Pitshanger Lane; sadly I'll not be back there in a while (the celebrations of the UK rejoining the EU still being a long way off). So it's good that a decent charity shop exists in Warsaw.

This time last year:
Comfort, discomfort and winter cold

This time two years ago:
Frustration as completion of Chynów station draws near

This four three years ago:
London in verticals

This time five years ago:
Roadblock and railfreight

This time six years ago:
Sunny morning, Hyde Park and Kensington Gardens

This time seven years ago:
Brentham Garden Suburb

This time eight years ago:
Ahead of the opening of the second line of the Warsaw Metro 

This time nine years ago:
Keep an eye on Ukraine...

This time ten years ago:
Płock by day, Płock by night 

This time 11 years ago:
Warning ahead of railway timetable change

This time 14 years ago:
Some thoughts on recycling