Poland has been towards the top of my travel list for a long time, given my family history. Especially after my cousin Piotr reached out to me via Facebook in 2019, I was excited by the real possibility of a family reunion trip. Nearly 4 years later, my sister and I met our parents and mom’s sister in Prague, where we enjoyed two days of sightseeing and great food before hopping in a van bound for the small but historic city of Krosno, Poland. For all the anticipation, the border crossing into Poland was so uneventful that we didn’t even notice that we changed countries. The highway we were traveling felt familiar, like it could be here in Massachusetts, lined with mixed forests of birch, pine, and fir and filled with fast drivers. In fact, many of the terrains in southern Poland compare closely to places I’ve lived: the rolling rangeland east of Kraków reminded me of rural Texas, and the limestone bluffs of Ojców evoked scenes from the Ozarks in Missouri. As we wound through the final stretch of countryside near Krosno, the square houses with pitched roofs and bountiful gardens felt pastoral and homey, reminding my mom of the village where she grew up in rural Connecticut.
Of course, my connection to Poland goes far beyond the surface level, as 4 of my 8 great-grandparents emigrated from Poland in the early 20th century. I would learn a lot this trip about my great-grandfather, Jakób Mercik, who came through Ellis Island between 1906 and 1910 and settled in Connecticut, followed by his brothers Józef and Jan. Their other siblings would stay behind, including younger brother Władisław, who survived the hardships of two world wars and multiple foreign occupations to eventually become the patriarch of his own line of Merciks. Though they likely knew that they would never see each other again, Władisław and Jakób kept some form of contact, even through the challenges of distance, geopolitics, and hard economic times. The thread of communication continued between my mother and her cousin Alicja, who wrote letters back and forth as children but lost touch as adults. Even though my mother has no memory of Jakób and our cousins have no memory of Władisław, I am sure that they were smiling down as their descendants would bring the family together in their hometown after over 100 years of separation.
Krosno
Soon after our arrival to the luxurious Pałac Polanka hotel, we met our welcoming party of Piotr and Alicja and their families. The hotly anticipated moment was full of smiles and hugs – we would catch up on lifetimes apart throughout the weekend, but first, the logistics of our VIP tour of Krosno. The next morning, we would reunite in the historic city square, a peaceful plaza flanked by three magnificent churches that date back several centuries. We climbed the steep wooden steps of the bell tower to view the breathtaking panorama of Krosno and the surrounding Subcarpathian hills. We learned about key players in Krosno’s long history, like Robert Wojciech Portius (a Scottish wine merchant who financed the ‘new’ cathedral in the 17th century) and Ignacy Lukasiewicz (the inventor of the kerosene lamp). We toured the glass-blowing museum, which featured fascinating live demonstrations from local artisans and exquisite pieces of art (including a positively glowing set of uranium glass, pictured). Pride for the region’s glass-making heritage runs deep here, as Krosno factories have produced top-quality glassware distributed across Europe for nearly a century, earning the nickname “Miasto Szkła,” or Glass City. In fact, Krosno has memorials for practically everything – its founding charter issued by Casimir the Great, religious iconography in its old churches, various historical figures, glass manufacturing prowess, Pope John Paul II’s visit in 1997, and more – and it was heartening to see that our cousins all share a deep pride for their hometown.
The highlight of the weekend was, of course, spending time with our relatives – in true Polish style, with generous hospitality and impossibly large quantities of food. First, we were treated to hearty dinners of pork cutlet and goulash pancake at the fine Restaurant Portius. The celebration continued at cousin Dorota’s home, where a luxurious spread of finger foods and desserts awaited us – you cannot possibly leave a Polish party with space in your stomach! Gifts were exchanged and old pictures were shared, along with the stories of how everyone was connected. We visited the final resting place of Władisław and his wife Genovefa in a quiet church cemetery along with stones from a few more distant ancestors with surnames I had never heard before. The rector let us inside the old wooden church at Targowiska where Jakób and Władisław would have attended as children, a sanctuary whose dark interiors were brightened by radiant biblical murals and shed light on a connection with ancestors I never knew but could vividly imagine in that moment. We proceeded to the grave of Władisław’s son Stanisław, who was brought to life by the many positive memories portrayed by his children and grandchildren. My heart was especially lifted when meeting his widow Babçia (as everyone calls her, grandma), whose witty one-liners and endearing warmth reminded me of my own grandmother in all the best ways.
The family reunion festivities were truly special. After cousin Paulina graciously helped translate the icebreaker conversations, I had an opportunity to visit with each of my cousins at length. Alicja, who was perhaps most excited for meeting her long-lost penpal, told me fervently about the religious landmarks of Krosno and asked me loads of questions through our translator app about life in Oklahoma and New England. All the while, her 3-year-old grandson Leon was riding his scooter-bike all over the yard, usually followed closely by his adoring grandfather Waldemar. Piotr, more of the quiet type, positively glowed when talking about family history and about his daughter Agnieszka, who excels in judo and is overall a sweet young lady. Piotr’s wife Katarzyna counterbalanced his quiet demeanor, leading a spirited tour of Krosno and sharing her favorite bookshop with the bright passion of a youth librarian. Dorota exuded kindness and care with a smile throughout, showing a special enthusiasm when helping her adorable daughter Emilka recite the lines for her first grade English class performance. Their youngest sister Anna is an elementary Polish teacher and very involved sports mom to Mati and Maciej, with whom I enjoyed some laughter-filled soccer and basketball scrimmages in the yard. I formed an automatic rapport with Dorota’s son Dominik, a pre-law student who shares many of my interests from sports to hiking, and his vivacious girlfriend Kamila, who was very interested in talking about travel and pilates. There is a saying, “friends are the family you choose”; well, in this case, I am lucky to be able to choose all of these cousins as family who I hope will remain close for years and decades to come.
For many reasons, my weekend in Krosno was one of the most heartwarming and defining experiences I’ve had as an adult. Not only do I better understand my heritage, I now have an active connection to the Mercik family, a supportive and tight-knit unit who still live close to one another and gather every Sunday afternoon. I since learned that Jakób and my great-grandmother Wiktoria sought to build a similar family-centric dynamic in Connecticut, buying up land around their house first to operate a small farm during the lean depression years then to parcel it off for their sons to build houses for their families. Growing up with privilege in America, I had feared that my relatives who stayed behind would have faced debilitating hardships – perhaps that was true for older generations under communism and occupation, but I was relieved to see during this short visit that they live comfortably, happily, and with an aspirational family ethic. In fact, our Polish family had achieved Jakób and Wiktoria’s exact dream, with Alicja living in a beautiful house surrounded by a bountiful garden of fruit trees and berry bushes, Dorota and Anna living next door to each other near Władisław’s old homesite, and Piotr living close by in Krosno. I felt wholeheartedly content as we all walked to a beautiful lavender farm, chatting and playing with the children amongst rows of purple beneath a picturesque stormy sky – a truly memorable ending to an unforgettable visit. As we were preparing to leave the Pałac Polanka, Barbara at the front desk told us that countless Americans come looking for records or remnants of their own family histories, with many running into literal dead ends at cemeteries or finding nothing at all. This made our tearful goodbye one of gratitude and happiness, as I am deeply grateful to be united forevermore with such wonderful and loving people in my Polish family.
Kraków
The next day began with a two-hour bus ride to Kraków, Poland’s second-largest city and thousand-year-old cultural epicenter. The approach to the Old City transported us gradually back in time, as communist-era apartment towers yielded to grandiose 1800s city blocks when we neared the Planty, a magnificent 200-year-old greenbelt encircling the city center where a moat and wall once stood. We hopped on a golf cart tour to introduce us to Kraków’s rich architectural history, proceeding past the stout brick Barbican tower and through the medieval St. Florian’s Gate. The historical ambiance hit us immediately upon entry to the Old City, where throngs of pedestrians wove around our golf cart among stone facades that dated back several centuries. Notably, there was not a single car to be seen, only horse-drawn carriages clopping down well-worn cobblestone streets that have survived the tumults of history.
And Kraków’s history is simply legendary. The city was founded around 900 AD when the heroic Prince Krak defeated a dragon; this dragon’s bones* hang like a trophy above the entrance to the Wawel Cathedral, and we even walked through the supposed cave where this dragon resided beneath Wawel Hill. Soon afterwards, Poland was united under Bolesław the Brave and established as a Christian state, leading to the construction of the small St. Adalbert’s Chapel and fortified St. Andrew’s Church – the ancient stone interiors of these buildings felt cold and barren compared to later architecture, bearing the weight of many invasions and sieges weathered. The Mongol Horde and other invaders ransacked the city, but from the ashes rose my favorite king, Władisław the Short (or King Elbow-High because of his rumored 120cm stature), who restored Poland after hiding for 4 years in a narrow cave that we crawled into on our guided hike through Ojców National Park. His son, Casimir the Great, really brought Kraków to prominence as the capital of the new Polish empire, founding the Jewish neighborhood of Kazimierz, chartering the world-renowned Jagellonian University, and building Wawel Castle atop the dragon’s hill. We visited the tombs of most of these royals in the gilded halls of the Wawel Cathedral, including other notables such as King Jadwiga, the first female king who was crowned at age 10 then married Duke Jagiełło of Lithuania to unite the two countries, and King Sigismund the Old – so many great names with even greater stories.
The Old City still reflects the early renaissance time period of these royals. We spent hours enjoying the main square, watching tourists mingle with locals in the Cloth Hall market and meeting our cousins Paulina and Jonasz (with their cute son Leon) for ice cream under one of the hundreds of outdoor dining umbrellas. We witnessed the age-old timekeeping tradition at St. Mary’s Cathedral, where on each hour a bugler blasts the city song in all four directions from the highest tower. The inside of this cathedral is breathtaking, with Gothic high-arched ceilings, dramatic stained glass windows, and nearly every surface covered in intricate gold leaf. We strolled through the courtyard of the old Jagellonian University and past the rowhouse where Copernicus lived as a student there. We toured the Wawel Castle, admiring the massive tapestries and renaissance artwork in the palatial living space of Jagellonian kings and queens. Kraków remained at the pinnacle of European civilization for centuries, fueled by riches extracted from the nearby Wieliczka Salt Mine – this was very impressive, walking through the maze of rock salt passageways including a resplendent underground cathedral made entirely from salt. I was also impressed by the Czartoryskich Museum, which was founded during the Austro-Hungarian period and still remains as a 200-year-old collection of art, antiquities, and artifacts from centuries of Polish royals.
Despite lengthy gaps in Poland’s autonomy, the people of Kraków have kept their rich culture intact; nowhere is this more apparent than in the universal pride for Polish cuisine. And to say that we ate well in Kraków is an understatement! We began with a food tour of Kazimierz, where our guide Magda introduced us to a grand variety of new and traditional Polish foods: tasty pierogi (with fillings like wild mushroom, mediterranean lamb, and sweet plum preserve), a platter of cheeses and sausages, crispy zapiekanka, even a microbrewed IPA. She informed us that “greasy, fatty foods” are customarily served so that people can better hold their liquor, advice that came in handy for our subsequent vodka tasting, where flavors ranging from hazelnut to horseradish may have wrought burning regret otherwise. We enjoyed a casual cafeteria-style meal at a milkbar, elevated highlander cuisine at Morskie Oko restaurant, a sampling of Ukrainian and Georgian cuisines – all delicious meals served in quaint, historical surrounds. Kraków’s ambience is certainly a blend of western and eastern influences; while I did not hear polka music even once among the many street performances, I was positively transfixed by the group of Ukrainian women playing folk operas on bandura near St. Florian’s Gate.
Tragically, Kraków bears indelible scars from its more recent history, particularly in Kazimierz: as many as 68,000 Jews lived here before WWII, building a thriving community that served as a refuge for persecuted people from all over Europe. After the Nazi invasion in 1939, Jews were forcibly removed to the Kraków ghetto, a walled work camp that is nowadays being gentrified with cold steel-and-glass apartment buildings. We stood in Heroes Plaza, where 70 bronze chairs memorialize the brutal events that took place there (the symbolism of these chairs is somewhat abstract but tragic). Some elements of hope and resilience were conveyed in the stories of the Apteka pod Orlem pharmacy and Schindler factory, the latter of which houses a thorough and thoughtful museum about the Jewish experience before and during the Nazi occupation. But all hope was crushed later when we visited Auschwitz, which was the single most chilling, devastating, despicable place I have ever set foot in. The evil brick buildings of the concentration camp were frozen in time, making it painfully easy to imagine the terrors that the Nazis inflicted on their prisoners. A large room filled with confiscated belongings personified the scale of loss, as each old coat or shoe or suitcase was ripped from a person being herded to slaughter. And the end of the train track, next to the bombed-out ruins of the gas chambers…it was a textbook view brought to devastating reality, a feeling of heartless, senseless death hanging in the air. Just a wretched place, and I left with a lasting pit in my stomach.
In truth, Kraków is still recovering, not only from the tragedy of the Holocaust but also from the next 45 years stifled under Soviet-style communism. The fraught history likely contributes to the reserved, orderly demeanor of the Polish people; if I accidentally broke a rule or convention, which was bound to happen, I could smooth the situation over with a quick “Przepraszam” (hard to pronounce but essential vocabulary, sorry). There’s a cynicism that remains among the older generation, who retain a distaste for government affairs and measure Poland’s progress against its neighbors, particularly the thriving Czech Republic. There’s also a deeply rooted, hopeful brand of faith, exemplified by Pope John Paul II, who spent most of his life in the Kraków area and played an instrumental role in Poland’s solidarity movement and eventual independence. His relics and memorials are spread throughout the city and across Poland, befitting the level of inspiration that he has provided for the people. In discussing Kraków’s storied history, I failed to mention the youthful, cosmopolitan energy that I imagine is fairly new to the city. But you can’t miss it: shiny new streetcars shuttle young people between universities and busy shopping malls and entertainment districts, bringing life to the city day and night. I loved Kraków – such a captivating blend of history and culture and food and fun – and I would love to someday return and explore more of its sights and stories.
Zakopane
For the grand finale of the trip, I split from the rest of my family to spend a weekend in the High Tatras, a ruggedly beautiful mountain range along Poland’s southern border. I boarded a bus for Zakopane, the rustic base camp for outdoor activities that felt somewhat like other tourist trap towns (Gatlinburg, Tennessee and Queenstown, New Zealand come first to mind) but with a distinctly Polish flavor. I visited the local architecture museum, which featured intricate models of timber houses and displays of craftsman furnishings. I checked out the public market, where tucked behind souvenir stores were vendors selling local woodcrafts, weavings, and piles of animal pelts. I noshed my way up and down Krupówki Street, sampling local delicacies such as Oscypek cheese (a smoked goat cheese that was oddly squeaky but delicious), grilled mutton with farmers cheese spreads, and a monstrous pork knuckle with żurek (a sour rye-based soup that is infinitely more delicious than it sounds). I rode the panoramic funicular to the top of Gubałowka Hill, where I tried out the gravity slide before relaxing for a few hours with a mesmerizing view of the jagged Polish Tatras across the valley.
All this prepared me for the highest highlight of the trip, at least in terms of elevation and adventure: an all-day epic hike to the summit of Rysy, Poland’s tallest mountain. I caught a bus at the crack of dawn to Tatry National Park, where I warmed up with a brisk 5-mile walk along the scenic alpine road to Morskie Oko lake. Hundreds of Polish tourists were making the trek alongside me, from women in sandals pushing strollers to seasoned backpackers with hiking poles, all enjoying the perfect clear weather and spectacular views of the rocky peaks in the morning glow. When I arrived at Morskie Oko, I found a flat rock away from the crowds to stretch/do pilates beside the placid, mirror-like surface of the lake. I followed the stone path along the lake’s edge, stopping often to ooh and aah at the many views of this famed natural wonder framed by tall firs and flowering bushes. A 20-minute climb to the scrub pine treeline and I arrived at the arguably more beautiful Czarny Staw, a deep black pond surrounded by towering walls of rock and snow. This is also where I had my first view of Rysy peak, a pointed crest looming far in the sky. The hike then veered up a steep glacial slope, climbing over fields of fallen boulders and traversing a few slippery snowfields. The risks along this exposed mountainside became very real when a pair of rescue helicopters roared overhead. Wiping the sweat from my brow, I would proceed with caution as I used anchored chains to climb the steeply slanting rock face, section by section, occasionally pausing to take in new angles of the angular peaks surrounding me. Fortunately, there were plenty of other hikers to talk to and root for, and our line pushed upward for another hour or more before reaching Rysy’s saddle. I stopped here to look down the steep glacial valley, glimpsing a family of brownish dots (European brown bears, maybe?) scampering on the rocks and snow a half-mile below. Above me, I could see the pointy Polish side of the summit, and after just a few more minutes of chain-pulling I found myself signing the “We did it!” record book and staring in breathless awe at the 360° panorama of majestic mountaintops.
Basking in this glorious view from the pinnacle of Poland, I could not help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude. I had never felt a stronger bond with my roots, like the serene perfection of the peaks surrounding Rysy intensified my genetic connection to southern Poland. I was deeply thankful for my health, that my body was able to complete that strenuous climb a year removed from major back surgery. I felt the excitement of exploration, not least because the particular ledge where I would eat lunch was on the Slovakian side of Rysy’s summit, notching another country to my growing list of great experiences. I enjoyed a camaraderie with other hikers who braved the climb (from Poland, Slovakia, Kazakhstan, Australia, and elsewhere) and with other Polish friends with whom I would reconnect over the course of this trip. The exhilaration would carry me all the way down the mountain, a grueling 3-hour quadricep burner punctuated by more spectacular views – rather, the same spectacular views from the morning’s climb but with a new patchwork of clouds that yielded to a splendid golden hour by the time I arrived back at Morskie Oko. A 5-mile cooldown on the paved road, made more palatable by some blueberry ice cream, and a drowsy 45-minute bus ride back to Zakopane, then my greatest hiking day ever was in the books. Despite the soreness and fatigue that followed me for the next days of travel back to the States, I felt completely fulfilled after this trip to Poland, where from the depths of Wieliczka Salt Mine to the very top of Rysy, I found a country with exceedingly beautiful sights, fascinating history, and wonderful people.
Worldly Observations 