Monday.

We spent Monday morning at work and home, scuttling around with last minute preparations for the trip to Poland. By the time afternoon rolled around, I was more than ready to be en route. To our dismay, weather in Chicago proved too threatening for the small plane, so Tom and I drudged back home to wait out the weather. Not to be undone by nature, we made our way to the Golden Corral and ate away our woes– a final juicy steak before our jaunt in Europe.

Tuesday.

As decided by the computers at American Airlines, we rebooked a flight from Atlanta to Dallas to Frankfurt to Gdansk– so many miles west before we started heading east, go figure. We left the shuttle station at 6 am and weaved our way through security in Atlanta just in time to get in the air. Many hours of butt-cramp later, we were still flying over the Atlantic…Wednesday.

On the ground in Frankfurt, we spent our two hour layover sitting in recliners, diligently making sure our tickets on Polish national air were confirmed. They were, but we didn’t know it until we stood at the check-in counter for another 30 minutes, watching as the Lufthansa agents diligently tried everything within their power to find our reservation. When they did, in fact, find them, we hopped over to Gdansk and met our hosts. We were in Poland.

Gdansk (the “k” is mostly silent) is on the northernmost part of Poland, on the Baltic Sea. We stayed with the Meads in Copot (replace the t with ld and you’ll be close). They keep a flat not far from the walking street and the frigid, inhospitable, unvacationable Baltic Sea. I really love this tower. We took the train to old town Gdansk and did our first tourist/photographic stint. After several hours walking around Gdansk, soaking in the sights of Europe, we made our way back to Copot and ate hamburgers at the Schick’s flat. After nearly three days of travel, we were ready for bed.

Thursday.

Our reason for visiting Poland was to make high quality pictures available to ABWE and its constituents. These photographs were to give the feel or personality of the country for use in presentations, newsletters, et al. So aside from the high quality part, I was set.

We took an hourish long train to Malbork, city with the largest brick castle in Europe. Or Poland. Or somewhere. The Teutonic knights built the place, and it was huge. The Germans used it as an armory during the second Great War, so the Russians bombed the wazoo off of it, but the country has done a beautiful job restoring it.

Friday.

Hitler wanted to eliminate the Polish race to make room for an expanding Germany. Stutthof concentration camp was the first opened in Poland and was in operation from 1939 until May 1945. During its tenure, Stutthof housed hundreds of thousands of Poles, Jews and Russians, killing no less than 65,000 people. The camp was designed to work its prisoners to death; once one entered its heavily guarded gates, death was almost certain.

In Sopot, the sun rises by 4 am and doesn’t quench its fire until after 10pm. That’s over 18 hours of daylight. After remembering the suffering at Stutthof, we drove back to Sopot and walked around the city. Sopot is also home of the longest wooden pier in Europe. We climbed yet another tower to get a beautiful view of the city. Pizza for dinner: spinach/ham has quite a nice flavor.

Saturday.

Late night, early morning; the way it should be on a photographic mission. Reminds me of the good old days of video production deadlines/all-nighters (can you imagine Wilson on 0 hours of sleep? Yikes!)Today was a very historic day. We began at Westerplatte where World War II began. The ruins of a bombed out barracks still stand (quite solidly!) nearby. Dodging intermittent rain, we then drove to the docks of Gdansk, where the Solidarity Union was the last straw that broke the Communist’s back. From this building, Solidarity published its literature and thereby spread it around Poland and Eastern Europe. They transported the pamphlets via backpack; when the authorities discovered this and began arresting people with backpacks, all the people began wearing backpacks. If they didn’t have anti-communist propoganda, they carried books. As V says, “People should not be afraid of their governments; governments should be afraid of their people” (V for Vendetta).