SZCZESIN, POLAND My mother used to say, "If you can't say something nice, don't say it at all." Of course, she wasn't one to often follow her own advice and didn't know I would grow up to be a roving anthropologist whose research requires the facts and only the facts. The nicest way to put it, Szczesin is not Gdansk. After finding a hotel room and anxious to see the city, I asked the hotel clerk, "Where is Old Town?" With a puzzled look, she waved her hand, "The Palace is in that direction." Not exactly the response I was expecting. Perhaps, one of the taxi cab drivers conversing outside could take me to Old Town. "Do you speak English?" I said to the group. They shrugged and shook their heads. "Deutsch?" One stepped forward, "A little." "I want to go to Old Town." He didn't understand and turned to the others for help and after a few moments replied, "You want me to show you the town?" "No, just take me to Old Town." Shaking his head, confused, he consulted again with the other drivers. Finally he smiled and said, "Will do it for ten Euro - only ten Euro, no more." I smelled a setup - why the quote in Euros when the currency is the zloty. I decided to get a third opinion.
Around the corner I found another cab driver who spoke fairly decent German. But his reaction was similar to that of the hotel clerk and other cab drivers. Finally, he seemed to get it, "Old Town, tak, tak, I can take you to Old Town, just 20 zloty." That was about half the previous quote, so what the heck. As we got underway, he asked, "What are you doing in Szczesin?" I said, "vacation." He looked back at me in amazement, slapped his head, laughing, "Unglaublich! No one comes to Szczesin for vacation." He drove for a few minutes and then pulled over in front of a large modern glass building complex. "Here's the Galeria where all the tourists go. Back there," pointing in some general direction, "is the Palace." Really, I thought, another mall, certainly glitzier than the Crossroads mall, in St. Cloud, MN, but a place my mother would have felt right at home. I decided to pass on the mall and search for the Palace.
Not far away, the Palace wasn't hard to find, a sterile, almost modern looking building. In the inside courtyard, a four-piece brass band played La Bamba to an older set, swaying in their seats. This is not what I was hoping for; where are the little shops, the street performers, the old buildings, the sidewalk cafes? There were plenty of churches and it being Sunday they were all having services. It was getting late, I was hungry, and I hadn't seen a restaurant. At a small tavern, I asked the bartender, "Can I get something to eat here?" "No, we only serve alcohol." "Is there a restaurant you can recommend?" He thought long and hard, "There's a KFC on the corner." I actually had seen two KFCs and a McDonalds, but hadn't thought of eating at them. I walked a little further. To my surprise, I discovered I was back at the original taxi stand, just a few minutes from the Palace. Wow, and they were going to charge me ten Euro! Very hungry now, I spotted an Indian Restaurant across the street from the hotel. Turned out to be a very bad choice - the red wine was ice cold and lamb kebab unedible.
