(May 26 – 29, 2026)
I left Vilnius at noon on the 26th for Poland, another country I had yet to visit previously. Wanting to arrive in Berlin by Friday afternoon in time for something ‘special’ my friend Bastian had promised me, I had time to pick another stopover on the way for three nights. I debated between Warsaw and Gdansk, on the Baltic coast. Warsaw, a big city and more direct. Gdansk, a historical goldmine yet an added detour to the north. If you are following along so far, you are likely to know which I would pick.
Along the way, I had the interest in observing the stretch of land between Vilnius and the border with Poland near Suwalki. In geopolitical spheres, this seemingly bucolic and quiet farmland is charged with fear of vulnerability. If you look on a map you will notice this 40 mile gap of land known as the “Suwalki Gap” separates Belarus, an effective vassal state of Russia, with Kaliningrad Oblast, a curious exclave of Russia on the Baltic sea sandwiched between Poland and Lithuania.
This came about as a relic of the post-World War II partition of German lands to the Soviet Union and was retained by Russia after the fall of the Soviet Union, allowing it to retain a key port free of winter sea ice, as is not the case for St. Petersburg on the Gulf of Finland. The justifiable paranoia of the Baltic states is that any logical observer of geography and youthful participant in the game of Risk would conclude the desire for reuniting that land with the rest of mainland Russia for ease of logistics and territorial continuity.
The Baltic states eagerly joined NATO in 2004 to more effectively diminish the appetite for opportunistic land grabs, especially prescient in light of the Ukraine invasion of 2022. The prevailing concern of many in Europe today is whether the 60 year backbone guarantor and principal founding member of NATO, the USA, would honor Article 5 of the accord and come to the aid of the Baltic countries in case of attack. In its history the only time Article 5 has been exercised was by the USA in response to the 9/11 terrorist attacks and the deployment of USA and NATO troops to Afghanistan, for which 1,100 non-American forces paid the ultimate price.
Just prior to the border, all passengers had to switch trains in Moskva (Lithuania, not Russia) to another one continuing to Warsaw, as the train gauges change from wider gauge common in the former Soviet Union to the narrow gauge more common in the western Europe. A series of intimidating border guards did inspect passports, but otherwise the crossing was uneventful and seemingly innocuous for such a politically charged region.
Upon arrival in Warsaw, I did switch trains up to Gdansk, arriving at 10pm in the evening. I had booked an apartment via booking.com just a couple hours beforehand on the train and had no issue meeting with the host to get the key, although at first it wasn’t clear they spoke English so I was sending messages in Polish from the Translator app. Funny enough, having never seen one in my life before, on the walk to the apartment we nearly stepped on a hedgehog in the path. You never know where you will have your “firsts” sometimes.
Gdansk is a beautiful city, despite being near entirely destroyed (80-95%) in World War II. As a historically key Baltic sea port for centuries, it was a regular commercial hub in the Hanseatic, Teutonic, Polish-Lithuanian, and Prussian empires, and served as the primary storage and distribution hub for grain in the greater Baltic region. Its trade links also had it inherit substantial Dutch and north German influence in architecture and culture.
This mercantilist legacy further had it serve as the independent Free City of Danzig from the end of World War I, governed by the League of Nations, until the first day of World War II. There, the first shots of the war were fired at the Polish administrative infrastructure of the city, namely the post office and Westerplatte military outpost. While not actually belonging to Polish territory, the Poland did manage its foreign affairs and logistical administration. As a historical German-speaking city, it provided a ‘defensible’ argument for the Germans to take action in occupying it under the premise of protecting its native speaking German population.
Prior to joining a free city tour later the next day, I incidentally stumbled across the very site of the post office and the wall where the remaining Polish defense forces of the post office were shot despite having surrendered. Hand prints are set in the wall along its length, including one memorializing an eight year old victim.
Immaculately rebuilt in the spirit of the prior Flemish baroque style with extensive restaurants and cafes along the harbor and plazas, the city was awash in high school age tour groups and had a bit of a tourist trap feel. I went with the current though and signed up for a tip-based walking tour through Walkative to learn more about the past. A highlight is observing the hour mark strike at noon on an intricate astronomical wooden clock housed in the St. Mary’s cathedral that was originally built in the 15th century but proved faulty over time until hobby engineers properly restored its function in 1990.
I capped the afternoon off with a visit to the European Solidarity museum next to Gate 2 of the Gdansk shipyard docks. A must-visit for any social activist or civil rights enthusiast, Gdansk also served as a bedrock for a worker-led, anti-totalitarian political movement which gave root to democratic representation and the fall of communism in Poland and arguably elsewhere.
Lech Wałęsa was the primary spokesperson and organizer for the Solidarność (Solidarity) movement and was voted as President in 1981 at the first convention of the movement after years of suppression and labor strikes, most notably in 1970, opposing the deteriorating living conditions of the populace. Within a year of that, he, along with the rest of Solidarnosc leadership were placed in internment camps until international pressure forced their release 11 months later. The movement gained worldwide support throughout the 1980s, and Lech Wałęsa eventually was elected President of Poland in the first democratic elections since World War II in 1990.
That evening I did what I do to celebrate free society and sought out a jazz club. The Absinthe Pub & Club served up a delightful open jam and some potent cocktails at bargain prices in a cozy cellar. I went for the Chrysanthemum and soaked up the improvisational sets as the musicians alternated out. I met a quantum physicist PhD student who had played a set and encouraged me to join in for one of the next ones. Alas, I have not studied jazz scales sufficiently and politely declined, but I left that evening elevating that on my list of priorities going forward. I would begin practicing the coming week.
The following day I did one more walkabout the historic part of the city before visiting the World War II museum at 3pm. The Info Office suggested advance ticket reservations in lieu of queuing in long lines for open entry and that was the earliest time slot available. I figured three hours would more than suffice, but by the time the staff began shuffling people along and towards the exits at 6pm, I had barely made it up to 1942.
The museum is extraordinary in its documentation of the lingering origins of the conflict springing from the seeds laid by the outcomes of World War I and the rise of fascism in Spain, Italy, and Germany in the 1930s. The exhibits documenting the propaganda and momentous shift in ideologies promoting fervent nationalism and racial purity were stunning, and admittingly concerning with certain parallels observable today, albeit fortunately not yet as extreme. Still, campaigns and rhetoric in the political sphere of today that even remotely appear familiar to popular slogans and ideas of that time proved unsettling.
“Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it” goes the saying. Lest we forget the evil humanity is capable of when populations are convinced by charismatic leaders that the sources of what ails them and belittles their lives is rooted in the demonization of others not like them.
I finished my time in Gdansk taking a tip from a delightful barista at a café near my apartment that morning and headed north of the city to the proper seaside, as Gdansk is set deep in an inland harbor served by lochs and channels. Having thought Sopot]would be the original destination, she rather suggested I go to Orłowo, as it would not be as touristy and featured beautiful cliffs and forested paths along the sea. I arrived there a couple hours before sunset and had time to leisurely walk out to a point several hundred feet above the sea after visiting the pier that proved a popular place for ice cream and fishing with locals.
On my way back I detoured off into the paths away from the cliffs and found a peaceful spot that beckoned for a bit of meditation below the lofty ceiling of pines above. The evening served a recuperative massage to the spirit after the heavy download of humanity’s darkest years just hours earlier. I enjoyed the final demise of the day’s light from an idyllic seaside restaurant eating a fish curry dish.
As a final salvo, I declined an initial thought of calling an early evening and gave in to the curiosity of the night club conveniently sited a block from my apartment in the halls of a still-standing Nazi air raid shelter. The above-ground, 5-story concrete behemoth was built so stout that neither allied bombing raids nor post-war efforts to dismantle these buildings proved capable, so repurposing the building to shelter the indomitable spirit of youthful adults to live in the moment and celebrate opportunistic debauchery seems an appropriate alternative.
The next morning I boarded a train to Berlin. I became curious again as to what surprise was awaiting me there.
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