Poland 1991 #1of5

(Except Gdansk, Kraków, Oswiecim, Poznan, Szczecin, Warsaw, Wieliczka, Wroclaw.)

We crossed into Poland, from Frankfurt, Germany, with no problem at all. At the border crossing on the bridge over the Oder River, the guard just glanced at our passport covers, and waved us on. The thirty seconds it took to clear the border, headed east, in 1991, was in contrast to the three hours we spent here, headed west, in 1985. It just feels funny driving through Poland without the feeling that we should be paranoid.

We stopped at a roadside rest area for lunch. There was a snack-bar trailer selling lunch, and other travelers had stopped for rest or food. Nearby, a tall cement post had a stork’s nest on top. We passed a Polish cemetery that had a cross at each grave, and there was a funeral under way, as we passed. There is no doubt that either this road has been improved since our visit in 1985, or our memory has deteriorated.

We stopped to exchange some money. Calculating from dollars to DMarks to Zloties, we got about 10,100 per dollar. In 1985, it was 149 per dollar, so the money they misappropriated at the border, would be worth about $2 now, instead of $150 then. Later we found banks give 13,000 Zloties for a dollar, but we did want to have a little Polish money now, just in case.

There were several stands along the road where US cigarettes were for sale. For a while we followed a large truck with Soviet Union license plates, with a sign on the back door, in English, “Flower Bulbs, keep vents open.”

We visited with friends in Poznan for a couple of days, then headed toward Gdansk, to visit more friends. (Stories elsewhere.) A few miles north of Poznan we saw a sign for “Francuski Royale Dudki” which we found was a bakery, with fresh baked French bread. Well, perhaps the smell and those racks of bread in front of the building helped us figure that out. We stopped, and they were happy to sell us a couple of loaves of excellent bread — still warm. Emmy got the butter from the refrigerator and we enjoyed a snack while we drove. Another reason the RV is the only way to travel.

We have seen many farm wagons pulled by horses in Poland, and have tried to take pictures. Of course we missed the best one, a wagon piled high and wide with hay, with three young men sprawled on top, just as nonchalant as can be.