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24 Krasickiego Street, Krakow, Southern Poland, 30-503, Poland
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200 Metres Down This Road
Hard Rock Café - Kraków
Kosciól sw. Jana Chrzciciela
Obwarzanki photo frame
I'm planning on traveling throughout southern Poland next month. I would like to leave my suitcase in Krakow's train station and just bring my backpack while I travel east to Tarnow and Rzeszow for a week or so. Would I be able to leave my suitcase in the train station for a week and if so, about how much would it cost? Also, how would one say "left luggage" in Polish? Thanks!
I don't know about cost but left luggage office is przechowalnia bagażu.
In case you don't know what that mysterious looking letter is it's bagazu, where z should have a dot above it and is pronounced similarly to j in French, e.g. in jamais. Przechowalnia bagazu is pronounced (roughly) pshihovalnya ba:ga:joo. I cannot be sure about now but there used to be two such places in the Krakow train station and manned so not just lockers.
At the streets you can find a lot of people singing, or playing some instruments - it consists to the one and uniqe atmosphere of Cracow. U should have some change to give to the streetmusicians ( if U like of course). They are very often interesting people, and can tell U many things about Cracow, and etc. It's worth to talk to them sometimes :)
In Wawel Castle, there's an exhibition of tapestries from the collection of Sigismund Augustus..
The images on the tapestries are derived from biblical stories & biblical/medieval characters, strewn/embroidered beautifully.
Infos :
A collection of the Flemish tapestries that once belonged to King Sigismund Augustus (1548-1572) is historically connected with the Wawel rooms. The history of the tapestries abounded in dramatic events. Towards the end of the 18th century, during the third partition of Poland, they were carried away to Russia, from where they returned as late as the 1920s.
Adam Mickiewicz monument is probably the most popular meeting place in Krakow's vast Market Square. The statue stands with the poet's back to the Cloth Hall so that's how you can tell the "in front of" and the "behind" the monument, hehe! That should make your directions easier, otherwise you may be walking in circles ;-)
By the way, Adam Mickiewicz was one of our greatest poets of the Romanticism era. Some say he was the greatest but I tend to disagree [but shhh!... this may not be a politically correct view ;-))]
Sitting in one of the Cafes is quite in fashion, especially in warm summer day. Tipping is very common and you usually leave about 10%. Don't leave the tip if some bird sitting on the tree next to your table makes your lunch break not as nice as you expected.
There you are... when you reach the gate you see a familiar sign: arbeit macht frei. We've all seen it either on television or on books - now it was for real. The rest of my visit to Auschwitz was something I had already seen in the media - the same 28 barracks, the sentry post, the gas chamber, the execution wall, the barbed-wire. It's difficult to describe how I felt, to start with I don't even know why I decided to visit it... All my time there I wondered why I wanted to see that place - at the end I'm afraid that I decided that one doesn't necessarily need to go there physically in order to remember the genocide. As I was led through the camp by the official guide I really disliked myself - it felt like black tourism - it felt wrong to be there. I guess that the only positive moment of the entire visit - the only one that really taught me something - were the words that someone spoke there. This person was on my tour-bus and he had been imprisoned in a concentration camp, although I'm not quite sure that it was Auschwitz. He explained that only in the camp had he learned what hunger was. He said that both he and his father had been in the same camp, and one night, while all the prisoners were in their barrack eating their scraps of evening meals, his father died. And he said that he then started to cry: not because his father had died - but because someone had taken the bread his father had in hand before he could take it himself and eat it. That man's words were the real Auschwitz, much more than the guided tour through the cement and wood remains of it
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