A Perfect Day: Krakow, August 2011

It's been nine months, but I really have to post something about Krakow. In reality, our time in Krakow was split up over three or four days, but in my head, we had one perfect day in Krakow. That perfect day went something like this:

From the train station, our short walk to the old town takes us across the planty for the first time. The planty is a park (yes, the plant-y is a park) that encircles the old town where the city's medieval walls once stood. Shade trees line tidy paths; locals watch passersby from the green benches. There is always something to see in the planty. 

Today it is several hundred young scouts from around Poland, looking homogeneous in their militaristic green and beige uniforms and knee-high socks. It's the 50th anniversary of the country's scouting program, and the President is in town for the occasion. Scout leaders try to corral the kids into scraggly lines while the marching band warms up and the flag bearers smugly congregate in front. I can't help but feel like the towheaded youth are about to storm the castle.

From the planty, it's a quick jaunt through the old town to Market Square, the heart of Krakow. We have timed this perfectly. Only during certain summer months, on certain days, between certain hours can you climb the city watch tower next to St. Mary's Basilica. With even greater temporal precision, we emerge at the top of the tower right before 11 a.m. On the hour, the trumpeter on duty (finishing his 24-hour shift) emerges from his little office and circles the wood-beamed room to play the city's famous hejnał four times - once in each direction.

So there we are on a beautiful summer morning, looking out over Krakow's old town and the bustling Market Square, and right next to us is one of Krakow's (and Poland's) greatest symbols, playing the same short melody that has been played here every hour, every day, for centuries. Awesome.

And then the Villagers Stormed the Castle

View of Vianden castle from the hostel

Cold, wet, and (in Jeff's case) sick, we headed out of Luxembourg City Saturday night for the little town of Vianden along the German border - home of Luxembourg's only current nomination for the World Heritage list (perhaps you can sense a theme). This involved a train and then a country bus, and then a trudge up a steep hill under the shadow of Vianden's medieval castle.

I asked the nice lady at the hostel to recommend a place for dinner, and she mentioned that the town was having a little parade that night, followed by food stands in the school yard. A little odd to have a parade at 8 on a cold and rainy November evening, I thought, but hey - we're game for anything.

As we trudged back down the hill in the rain at 7:58, there was a seismic boom, followed by another - it was less friendly-crackle-of-firecrackers and more heavy-artillery-bombarding-the-town. I think we heard the crackling of the fires before we actually saw them: two giant bonfires on opposite hilltops that looked like they were raging out of control (Jeff voiced concern for our belongings back at the hostel).