Krakow - Eposide Two: Above the salt

From Wiki: "The word salary originates from Latin: salarium which referred to the money paid to the Roman Army's soldiers for the purchase of salt."

White gold, below the salt, salt of the earth, worth his salt. Salt has been currency both in physical and literary terms for thousands of years. And though I was familiar with salt harvesting from the sea, I never really thought about rock salt or that it required mining. I never imagined, for example, that beneath the ground the prehistoric seas had left such huge salt deposits as those that give their name to places like Salzburg and Salzach.

My visit to the Wieliczka salt mine was one of the highlights of my recent visit to Poland. There is a lovely story of how the mine was found, through the dropping of a ring by St Kinga (she dropped the ring in a salt mine miles away, and it turned up in Wielicza). St Kinga is the patron saint of salt miners, of course.

The mine itself is an amazing place and certainly worth visiting. 101m underground and you are in a huge chamber that equals that of many a stately home. And it's all made of salt - from the tiles beneath your feet to the crystals on the chandelier. The salt miners (who lived longer than their non-mining contemporaries, due to the 'benefits' of salt) made the most amazing statues and underground chapels - carving out of the salt not only the chambers and passageways, but detailed statues of saints and heroes.

The mine was awe inspiring - in fact it is one of the most extraordinary and intriguing places I have ever been. A mix of nature's wonder (the varying colours of the salt and the way it crystalises on the ancient props) and the ingenuity of humanity - carving not only a living from the salt, but the amazing chapels too.

From the Pope to gnomes, all along the tourist route you get to see the craftsmanship of carver-miners. The tour I went on was around two hours and we walked a long way, exploring three levels of the mine that are open to the public. And the amazing thing is that we saw just 1% of the mine - it must be absolutely huge.

St Kinga

The main hall

One of the tunnels

The floor tiles - simply carved out of the salt floor

One of the carvings in the main hall

Carving detail

I was there! 

The salt mine alone was worth the trip to Poland. I wish I could have taken better photographs, but those I do have don't even begin to do it justice.

Photos: All (C) Carolyn Sheppard 2013

Krakow - episode one: Too fat for a Pole

The town and the places I visited were full of young people – healthy looking, with their distinctive defined features and lean figures. I did, however, notice a distinct lack of middle aged people (and have no explanation for this). The older people were the retired generation (and didn't tend to hang around tourist haunts, understandably), but I was disappointed at the lack of impressive facial hair across any generation. This may be a stereotypical expectation, but one fulfilled in the past (in an adventure in Spain, but that’s another blog post). There’s no denying it, if I hadn't been wearing a big coat with a fur collar and the most ridiculous (but warm) ear-flap hat, I would never have been mistaken for a native, not at my weight.

St Adelbert's

I enjoyed my visit to Krakow and the people were friendly, especially the ones on the market square. These fell into three distinct categories – firstly the tourists, of whom I was one and blatantly wandering about with a camera taking pictures of churches and architectural detail; secondly the visiting Pole who is confident in the language but unfamiliar with the city. They were disappointed when I couldn't direct them to their chosen destination or tell them which tram was going where. Finally were the panhandlers; those individuals (of all ages) who were asking for money or food, with the catch phrase ‘I'm hungry’. One rather elderly lady in a fur coat told me she hadn't had any lunch (but she did have cigarettes).

I adopted a technique for dealing with the latter group – a simple and safe one. Speak complete gibberish. If I spoke English, then they had a way in to conversation, and being British and polite, we hate saying no. But, if I spoke complete rubbish, they gave up and went away, heading towards the next likely looking mark. Now I may sound insensitive and there are definitely those in need in Krakow as in many places, but I am not wise enough to know who is deserving and who is not. Nor am I foolish enough to get out my purse in a market square in front of a person who can (fur coat lady aside) no doubt run a lot faster and further than me.

If you know me, you know I am not a Christian or a great believer in any formal religion, but I do believe that the basic ideas (of nearly all religions) are a good moral guide overall, where they are about mutual benefit. I also understood that Jesus was a man (if he really was, blah blah, nothing deep here, save that discussion for another time) who stood for helping those worse off than yourself and in being humble in this life. So whilst on the freezing streets of Krakow young and old are asking for handouts from strangers, in the churches there are the most extraordinarily gilded statues I have ever seen.

I understand that churches were built to impress and convey the might of god (and the ceiling of St Mary’s is wonderfully impressive), but of the little I know of the Bible, I don’t think the apostles went around in huge gold-laden cloaks. Perhaps just one statue from one church would have yielded enough gold to feed everyone in the square that day.

Oh I know that’s simplistic, but it’s not so much about the money or aesthetics as about the conflict with what I understood Jesus to represent, and then how he is represented. In St Adelbert’s (where I attended a wonderful chamber concert), the painting of Mary and child had silver crowns stuck on top of their halos – an obvious later addition. It looked like a kid had got the silver paper and jelly beans out. Probably real silver and amber, probably worth a small fortune, yet to my mind they detracted from the impact of the painting itself. Mind you, the churches were very impressive and as a visual feast I certainly enjoyed visiting and photographing them.

It was cold in Krakow so I spent most of my time in my coat and well wrapped up. I ate wonderful food at Polish cafes and enjoyed local fare. Still, I didn't over eat and didn't drink much (apart from the delicious mulled wine) and I walked miles and miles. But if I had visited in summer and worn the local fashion of rather hideous check, they’d have still known I was too fat for a Pole.