ShawnH's Excellent Family Adventure
I made sure I pointed out that I would be driving to Poland when I booked the car. I specifically asked for a station wagon type vehicle, because with two kids, you have to over pack.
When we arrived in Berlin from Toronto, we were tired. I had been up early, and was unable to sleep on the plane. Groggy and confused by an unfamiliar airport under construction, I made my way to the car rental company, which was located in an out of the way spot, and down a flight of stairs. My lovely bride didn’t really feel like walking any further, so I walked down the stairs to the shack by myself. Entering, I was greeted by a tidy, friendly lady at the counter.
“Guten Tag”, she said, “Good Morning” I replied.
I gave her the confirmation number along with my driver’s license and credit card. In an extremely efficient manner, and with a cheery smile, she wrapped up the contract and handed it back to me, along with the keys to a shiny new Mercedes. Expecting something a little less luxurious, I enquired “and there will be no problem crossing into the border into Poland?”
The shock took less than one second to register on her face, and in a stern voice (which I have only paid to hear once before in my life), she retorted “This is Not Possible!”
From the customer behind me I heard “why would anybody want to go to Poland…” along with a chuckle. I was not impressed so far.
She snapped the contract and the keys back from me and with lightening speed, thrust a new contract, keys, and a little red pouch my way. She explained that when crossing the border, the contents of the red pouch were of some importance.
Happy to be free of her evil clutches, I made my way back up the stairs, collected my family and headed for where the car was parked.
My navigator pulled out the map we had marked up prior to departure in Toronto. We started out looking for a freeway leading away from the airport, but were unable to connect with it. We ended up driving northeast through some suburbs until the kids started complaining about being hungry. I spotted a nice little market selling fresh fruit outside, so we pulled over and bought some fruits, and regained our bearings.
We finally hit the highway, and drove for a spell. It was a lovely day, and being the adventurer that I am, I thought it would be nice to spend a night in Eastern Germany, exploring the area a little. We decided to get off the highway and find a place to stay for the night. We came across a little place not too far off the road that goes by the name of Eberswalde. I found a little inn, and went to the reception. The young lass at the front desk was dressed in a cheesy, stereotypically German costume. I had to chuckle to myself. Unfortunately, they didn’t take visa, and I had no Deutchmarks. Crap. Back into the car. We thought about it and decided to see how far we could get today, so we got back on the autobahn and away we went. I had a preconceived notion about the Autobahn, and this particular section of road did not meet my expectations. Bumpy as all hell.
We joined the long line at the border, and patiently waited. Finally, we crossed the border into Poland at Kolboskowo that afternoon. As warned, the little red pouch did seem very important to the Polish Border guards. We made it through customs with no problems. The little gas station at the first exit had a room for rent, and it was a welcome sight for a weary group of travelers. We darkened the room and completely crashed until the next morning.
We spent the day in Szczecin and travelled onto Gdansk the next day.
I learned a lot about driving in Poland on the road into Gdansk. People are impatient when it comes to slow trucks on curvy roads. I too, became impatient behind this one truck. I had poked my nose out a few times only to be greeted by another curve, or an oncoming car. The truck driver began to sense my impatience, and was having a little fun with me. I think that he sped up in those zones that offered an opportunity to pass, and slowed down when there were none. I thought he had had enough of me, and he gave me a nice little signal. “Oooh, the opportunity!” I thought to myself. I poked my nose out into the oncoming lane, and started to speed up. It looked good. I dropped a gear, gunned the engine harder, pulled out fully and started to pass. I was less than half way past the truck when I noted the car barreling straight for me. Decision time…. I looked back, and the space between the car that was behind me and the truck had closed up so much, I didn’t think I could safely slip in again. I had to go. I kept my foot pressed to the floor and gripped the steering wheel tighter. The oncoming car flashed his lights at me. The truck pulled over as much as he could and I could see the oncoming car pulling over as much as he could. I think the truck driver slowed down a tad. When I slipped in front of the truck, I don’t think there was any more than a couple of car lengths between us and the oncoming car. I am not sure which reflex was working harder: my sphincter working to keep my underwear clean, or my throat constricting in an effort to keep my heart in my chest. The big lesson? When following a trucker who gives you his left turn signal, it means there is someone coming….. I truly thought that was enough excitement for one day, but I was wrong. While driving into the center of Gdansk, looking for a place to stay (one noclegi and a couple of hotels later), I espied the Holiday Inn Gdansk. I could almost taste the beer I was about to have. I knew I had to turn left, so I got into the left lane. Unfortunately for me some city planner had designated that lane as one specifically for tramwaj’s. I almost kissed one when the road ran out. I thought to myself “And I have another three weeks of this crap? Damn.” I can here that darn bell to this day.
Next stop on our grand tour was Bialystok. My gal’s family lives there. The roads on the way are a little winding and hilly. Needless to say, the kid’s stomachs weren’t quite up for the trip. The oldest one decided to christen the car with the foulest smelling vomit imaginable to mankind. We stopped at a little sklep spozywyczy and picked up a roll of paper towel, some water, wipes, and a can of room deodorizer. The upholstery and carpet came out clean enough, but for the rest of the trip, the car smelled like somebody puked in a Pine Forest. We were to spend a few days in Bialystok before the next leg of our journey.
We took in the sights of Bialystok, and were enjoying a day of shopping downtown. The shopping done, we boarded the crowded bus to go back to Babcia’s. It was rush hour and we were unable to sit together, and there was a crush of people standing between us. On the way back to babcia’s place, the phone rang. It was my brother in law, Krzysiek. With my limited knowledge of Polish, and his limited knowledge of English, we were still able to communicate the following: “Terrorysta – Nowa Jorku… My stomach developed a pit I can feel to this day. We stopped at his place (because he had a better selection of TV stations in English). I sat down just in time to watch the second tower crumble on live television. The mood of the vacation had changed.
My brother in law planned a road trip: Next stop Krakow. We were to depart right after the hangover.
We did the usual stuff in Krakow (Cloth Hall, Wawel, Old Towne etc…), and were making our way to Wieliczka. I followed my brother in law’s lead to the noclegi that we were going to stay at. We came to an intersection at the top of a hill with a road that curves around a bend from both the left and the right. It was a bit busy to say the least. I waited and watched. I saw the way was clear and he made his move. I looked again, and was going to follow him through the intersection. Unfortunately from his perspective, he could see another intersection to the right of ours, and a car was emerging from there, and he stopped. I didn’t see it and proceeded to hit his car from behind. Crap. We both got out and had a quick look at the damage. Nothing was missing, and a there was a little bit of bent stuff. The traffic was backed up behind us, we decided to worry about it later. We got to the noclegi, and surveyed the damage. I was worried as crap, but my Krzysiek said not to worry. I had never turned in a damaged rental car in my life, and was worried that I would end up paying way more than the real value of the damage, being a foreigner and living a continent away.
We proceeded to Ustron and Wisla near the Czech border. We took the gondola half way up the mountain, and walked the rest of the way. On the top of that mountain, I became a criminal. The border was demarked by a small concrete post – I stepped on the Czech side without my passport! Still have the picture ;-).
When we got back to Bialystok, my brother in law took me for a ride to an Opel dealership that had the correct colour of paint for the car. We then went for a long ride in the country. The roads got rougher and narrower the further we got out of town. Eventually, they were nothing more than a sandy country road, getting washed out by the rain. We pulled into a farmer’s yard, full of old junked cars and a couple of decrepit tractors. He directed us to the barn, and opened the door to reveal a rudimentary body shop. I parked the car and my brother in law spoke to the man, who was pacing around the car, scratching his head and uttering some words that sounded like trouble. He popped the hood and started his work. An hour and a half later, the bumper was pulled out to its original position (flush and gap checks that the fine folks on the Mercedes assembly line would be proud of), it was expertly painted to conceal the damage to the fascia, and the license plate was flattened and touched up. The car looked as good as new. The princely sum of 40 zloty was exchanged, and we were on our way.
Thus, our vacation was ending. We started the journey back to Berlin. We spent a night in a hotel in Konin, and would reach Berlin the next night. I was worried about the inspection of the car back in Berlin, but fortunately for me, it was a dark and stormy night when I returned the car. There was little interest in doing a walk around, so I dropped off the keys and ran for the nearest exit, hoping the inspection would never happen.
The next day, we were concerned about getting through the newly heightened security procedures at the airport. We arrived three hours early, and were faced with a short line up. My stomach knotted when I joined the line – in front of us was a man dressed in full Arab dress. I thought we might never make it home alive. Obviously, we did.
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