(Mis)adventures -- The Journey to Gliwice

So there we were at the train station in Radom with all of our luggage -- where we had to wait 2 hours for the next train to Krakow  -- eating borsch and passing the time in a very unimpressed manner while Peter called his mother to inform her that if all went well we would be arriving at 1 in the morning instead of at 10 in the evening the way we had planned.  I don't speak enough Polish to tell you the content of the conversation, but I certainly learned a few choice words just by listening to them.

Even though Europe has more to offer the person in need of transport than North America does, the train stations I have seen so far are not particularly friendly to the mobility-challenged (not that trains are either).  The handicapped lifts only went to platform 1, and we needed to go to platform 2 with all of our luggage -- this became true once again in Krakow, and again in Katowice, but we'll get into that later.  I am incredibly grateful to the young German woman who helped us manage all of those stairs at Radom -- among other heroes of our journey that will be mentioned as we go along.  We realized when we looked at our tickets that our stopover in Krakow left us just enough time to go between platforms if we had to, but the train was a bit late in arriving at Radom and was delayed leaving Kielce.  The annoying part about rail tickets is that they don't tell you which platform you need to be on to catch the train you need: so we arrived in Krakow with only 10 minutes of our 20 minute stop left to us.  While Peter went below to see where we needed to go, Sarah and I stayed on the platform where we got off with the baggage, taking wagers on whether or not the train that we just saw pull in was in fact the one we needed to board.  I usually like being right.

This was not one of those times.

Peter ran back to us with the worst news: we had 5 minutes to haul all of our baggage downstairs, along the corridor, and back up another flight of stairs in order to get to the necessary platform.  I was recovering from a cold at this point, and while I was fine going down the stairs and along the hall, I got half way up the stairs when my strength began to falter.  Were it not for the help of the very kind young man who was passing us on his way down, we might have spent the night in the train station as the next train to Katowice didn't come until 1 AM, and the last shuttle from Katowice to Gliwice left at midnight.  Unfortunately for us the train was also quite a long one and we had to run most of that distance with our 5 large bags, 2 backpacks, and 2 purses in addition to a bag of food for the trip.  By the time we were half way down the platform I was at a point where I couldn't breathe and was on the verge of collapsing, but we made it there.

We got all of our baggage and ourselves on the train just as it left, and fortunately it made excellent time.  I was dizzy, retching, and barely able to stand when we left Krakow, but had regained just enough strength between there and Katowice that I could help move the bags down the hallway.  We always had to take the bags from our compartment to the main door about 15 minutes before our arrival to make certain we had the best use of our breaks -- and I would like to thank the old man in the compartment beside ours once again for helping to make that last move easier.

The train station at Katowice was beautiful primarily for the fact that it had escalators instead of stairs.  Never in all my days have I been so happy to see one as I was in that moment.  Instead of the three of us taking between 5 and 10 minutes to navigate stairs, we made it down and up in no time at all.  Katowice was also beautiful because it meant we were boarding the last train.  We had plenty of time, and it was decidedly more spacious than the other cars we had been on that day.  Since it was in reality a commuter train between Katowice and Gliwice, there were no corridors or compartments to complicate our lives.  Instead, there was a large empty space usually occupied by strollers or wheelchairs that we filled with our luggage (conveniently next to the door) -- in front of which we very gratefully collapsed.  We got off the train at our destination, went down the last flight of stairs, passed through the lobby and out into the chilly night air.  Peter went to recruit a cab, but all of them wanted to charge him extra for the fact that we had so much luggage.  At first he was unwilling to negotiate, but we convinced him that there was no way any of us would be able to make it to the flat on foot and paid the extra to be dropped off at our door.  We expected to be staying in the flat next to his for a few weeks until things got settled -- so imagine our surprise when he dropped us off in our own space!

This story has been full of heroes, and I would like to remind my readers of them and mention a few who haven't come into the narrative yet.  The young lady, the student, and the old man who helped us with the manoeuvring and heavy lifting: thanks again.  I wish I knew your names so that I could thank you personally.  The train conductors who never made us pay for the extra luggage (maybe because our bags still had all the airline tags on them so it was obvious we were moving): thanks for ignoring our ridiculousness.  Our pocketbooks are just as thankful as we are.  Zofia, our Polish landlady in Kamloops: the flat is beautiful!  Thank you so much for allowing us to live here while you are away.  Whether we meet in Kamloops or Gliwice, we will have to meet sometime so Sarah and I can thank you in person.  Christiana: thank you soooo much for helping us get settled and feeding us incessantly in our first few days.  I'm not sure if it was obvious, but we are both eternally grateful.

Last but not least, A GIANT THANK YOU to the greatest hero in all of this: Peter.  I know if he were to read this he would say it was nothing as his face slowly turned red, but it is very true that we could not have done this without him.  Seriously.  Even if we had managed to get all of our stuff onto the train in Radom, we would likely have missed the connection to Katowice in Krakow owing to our lack of Polish.  Either that or we would have had to spend an awkward night at the flat in Radom and waited to take the direct train in the morning.  He has helped us negotiate cabs, and shopping trips, and even helped us with the search for work.  Therefore, his deeds are worthy of an entire paragraph.

He has earned every drop of the Glenlivet he got for Christmas, and then some...