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Shares
Having been born in 1995, I never thought that I would get to know friends as a result of World War II. It was just too far from me, timewise. Or...was it? I don’t know much about the city of Gdansk. The city, which is situated in the Northern part of the continental Europe and which is still a hidden treasure from the tourists of the World. This is my first ever solo-travelling experience. I do not know what to expect. However, simply the name Gdansk always impressed me. It has a special kind of strength, if you know what I mean. Having arrived at the central station, I decide to quickly get some necessities: water, fruits, food for the day. A book in Polish. Basic, at least for me. Wherever I travel, I need a local book. A local connection, although, not from the regular kind. It is at the bookstore, that I am the spectator of an encounter happening at the cashier’s desk. A woman, around 60, looking for a map. She needs the map of Gdansk. Interestingly, the staff is not able to help the lady. Everyone knows the feeling when we are aware of what we should do, yet somehow, we find it hard to act accordingly. It is not always easy to step up and talk to strangers. I guess this is a huge disadvantage of my generation. It is simply easier for us to hide behind technology, to stay in our comfort zones. But once you make the step to connect, you will not regret it. I leave the store. I need to go see the city – I am thinking. Then I ask myself: “Really? You run away?” She is surprised and happy when I offer my help to her. She is eager to find a hostel -yes, hostels are not only for youngsters! -, where she could stay the weekend. Spontaneous, I am thinking. We start sharing. She came from Germany. She is the member of a church and she is hosting refugees from all over the World in her house, helping them to integrate in the German society. Her husband and her children are probably worried sick because she hasn’t been able to get in contact with them since her phone died. I am really curious what she is doing in Gdansk, alone. I have to ask. “I came for an event”- she cuts it short. I am not satisfied, but I just let her keep it for herself, for now. The hours pass and we keet talking. I believe that each city has different faces and different characters. For example, the mid-August Barcelona is completely different compared to the early- February Barcelona. I have to say that the mid-September Gdansk is a great city for long walks and meaningful talks. Walking around the city, you can always find something to see: the combination of the colourful houses and the parade of showmen and musicians make the main square lively, yet somehow traditional. A merchant is trying to sell us jewel. She asks if I have a girlfriend. She says I should take it for her. The long walk ends on the bank of the Motlawa river. More precisely, facing The Crane. I am not aware of what it actually is. She tells me that it is not used anymore, since it was terribly demolished during the second World War. As we say goodbye, I have the feeling, I should ask again. There must be something more, then just “an event”. So I go ahead. “Why are you here?” And now she talks. “I am here for a memorial. German and Polish people get together to remember all the horrible things that happened in the second World War and to appreciate the peace, that we live in ever since. My father was also here, during the World War.” I suddenly realize how much this place must mean for her. All the stories, all the history, all the horrible things that happened here. The Second world war might had happened a long time before I was born, but I just spent an afternoon with its legacy.