Biking Poland
29 June - 1 July 2023, Wrocław, 83.37km
Babel Hostel 120zł [R539]
Someone seems to have stolen Poland's vowels!
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Our limited budget has forced us to seek refuge in a mixed dormitory in Wrocław's Babel Hostel. When we dragged ourselves through the door three flights up, after ten hours on the saddle, the first thing the young receptionist said was: "You are aware you have reserved a communal room?"
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Pavement pounding, while considerably safer than riding the shoulder-less 94, is exhausting. Of the 83km cycled today, perhaps 30 were spent on the sidewalk.
We pushed our bikes through Opole's central square, enjoying the juxtaposition of modern architecture cheek by jowl with old. We had our breakfast (yoghurt with a serving of something muesli-crunchy, bought from my favourite small supermarket chain, Żabka) on a flight of stairs leading down an embankment to the walking path alongside the Oder river. Then cycled to the railway line to spend the next several kms on a quiet road running parallel to it. A shortcut through a field put us onto the 94 which passed through numerous villages and towns: Skorogoszcz, Buszyce, Leśniczówka, Brzeg, Gać, Radwanice (to name a few). In each of these and in Wrocław, cyclists are encouraged to abandon the narrow 94 and brave the pavement. On occasion, these included dedicated and smooth cycle lanes, but mainly were hard work. Here's what makes even the best sidewalk hard work: The surface, usually cement brick, is marginally rougher than tar with a tiny hiccup between each brick; there is a dip and a lip at every driveway; manhole covers are not always set flush; and at each intersection you must cycle into the side road to cross it at a dedicated pedestrian crossing. The slower progress is manageable; the endless jolting less so.
BUT, we are safe in the city and about to take to our beds behind their pink curtains.
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(Note the road sign with a square-uddered cow.)
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We spent some of our pleasant morning hunting out Wrocław's bronze dwarfs. There are an estimated 700; we saw and photographed 22.
The Guardian: "Dotted around [Wrocław] are bronze statues of dwarves, the symbol adopted in honour of the 1980s Orange Alternative underground movement. A peaceful protest group, it painted absurdist graffiti of dwarves on areas where the police had covered up anti-regime slogans."
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Wikipedia (abbreviated): "... Wrocław ... was one of the centres of the Duchy and then Kingdom of Poland... German settlers arrived in increasing numbers after the first Mongol invasion of Poland in 1241... became part of the Holy Roman Empire ... ruled by Hungary between 1469 and 1490, and after the War of Austrian Succession in... the city [was] annexed by the Kingdom of Prussia, and in 1871 became part of the German Empire. [D]uring World War II, the city witnessed discrimination and persecution of its Polish and Jewish inhabitants... After World War II, Wrocław and most of Silesia were transferred to Poland and the German-speaking majority of its population was expelled to Germany."
Much of the old town was destroyed and rebuilt after the war…
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While out tracking down more dwarfs, we came across this: "... Polish artist Jerzy Kalina installed a total of 14 life-like statues - seven people descending into the ground on one end of the junction and seven people emerging from the ground on the adjacent corner. The public art installation called ... Passage or Transition was installed at the cross streets in December 2005 to mark the 24th anniversary of when martial law was introduced in Poland (December 13, 1981). It was a time when many ordinary civilians were killed and went missing, which is reflected by the descending pedestrians who disappear into the Earth. The imposing method of military ruling was lifted in 1983, as echoed by the rise of the ordinary man on the opposite side of the street. The installation provides a visual representation of time and power."
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wroclawguide.com:" But how did it come about that the entire city is now virtually taken over by the little dwarf figures?
It started with a political protest in the 1980s – the so-called „Orange Alternative” movement – to show dissatisfaction with the communist regime. It is well-known how the communist government usually dealt with critics and how dangerous it could be to express an opinion that differed from the official line.
For example, anti-communist graffiti was regularly painted over so that its unwanted message was no longer visible. Starting in August 1982, members of the movement began painting pictures of dwarfs over the painted-over graffiti. Because wouldn’t it be ridiculous if the government censored murals of dwarfs?
Over time, the colour orange crystallised as a response to communist red, and at protest events, participants began to wear orange headgear reminiscent of gnome caps.
Thus the "Dwarf Uprising of Wroclaw" became a silent but obvious form of protest.
At that time, however, there were no bronze statues – their invasion began in June 2001 at ul. Świdnicka when Papa Krasnal (Papa Dwarf) [pictured above on the tip of a finger, and quite different from the subsequent figures], a commemorative figure of the protests at that time, was erected. This triggered an avalanche of unexpected proportions. In 2005, another five dwarfs were erected in the city, all designed by the artist Tomasz Moczek. Since then, the dwarfs have miraculously multiplied almost exponentially; by now, every conceivable variation can be found. There is a dwarf orchestra, a prison dwarf, a selfie dwarf, a computer dwarf, a Martin Luther dwarf, and many more."
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Added another 28 to our collection... 50 in total…