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| Slwano Church |
SLWANO, POLAND I'm on the slow "Express" train to Szczecin, on the German boarder, my compartment companions speak only Polish, so I have time to say a few more things about the events of yesterday. My initial stop was in Slawno, where I thought the Vehlows may have attended church. My brother, Gordy, had sent me a picture of a cousin of ours posing in front of a large church in Slawno. Indeed, it was easy to find, the largest structure in town, with a history that goes back to the 12th century. However, the doors were locked. So I looked around for someone who might tell me something about the church and point me to the cemetery where I might find people with the surnames Vehlow or Hess buried. No one spoke English. No one spoke German. I asked at least two dozen people before I ran into a woman who spoke German. She said her husband was German and that she knew of only ten other Germans living in Slawno. Prior to WW II the church had been German Evangelical but now it was Polish Catholic. She walked me over to the cemetery, where, she said, Lutherans and Catholics were buried, but none of the deaths on the tumbstones dated before the War. After making the 21 kilometer backroad trip to Nacmierz, I concluded the Vehlows couldn't possibly have attended this church in Slawno and lived in Nacmierz.
From Gdansk, the only way I could get to Nacmierz was by renting a car, but renting a car in Eastern Europe, so far, is nothing like renting a car in the States. After 20 years of embracing free enterprise, there are still no rental car companies. You rent from individuals or through hotels. When I asked at one hotel if I could rent a car and drop it off at Slupsk. "Dziewiec!" he said shaking his head, "Hire driver, you must." That seemed unreasonable so the next night I asked at the Hotel Krolewski. "Tak! Tak! You can." the clerk said. I learned though that it would be expensive - approximately $114 for the day. "Okay,' I said, realizing there was no other way, my only ticket to Nacmierz. The next morning an elderly man showed up with an Opel, straight stick, no air conitioning, manual windows, and an empty tank of gas. I think it was his personal car. I had to prove to him that I could drive, reminiscent of when I taught Rachel, keeping one hand on the emergency break and the other ready to pounce on the steering wheel. Luckily, I passed, dropped him off at a gas station, fueled up, and headed off to Nacmierz. Our agreement was that I should drop the car off at the train station in Slupsk and call him when I got there. It wasn't clear how this was going to work since he didn't speak English or German, the hotel clerk had done the translating for us. When I arrived at the station, I called his number. "Train Station," I said and he replied, "tak, tak," and something that sounded like, "come soon." Surprise, five minutes later, he showed up. He must have taken the train and been waiting for me all along. Wierd, I could have given him a ride and saved the price of his train ticket.
