Faces in places in Wroclaw

First of all, pronounce it "Vrots-waff". Or you could fall back on the name it once had before Poland won its independence in 1918--Breslau. By either name, my visit to this town in southwest Poland was just as sweet. "Vrots-waff" was the first stop on my 9-day tour of Poland in early May this year. My traveling companion was Renate, a dear friend since our teaching days in Japan. We arrived in this city--one of the most-transformed in Poland, my guidebook informed me--after a 6-hour train journey from Berlin.

We arrived in the evening, after a short taxi ride from the station, at the elegant 4-star Jana Pawla II Hotel in the Cathedral Island section of Wroclaw. Jana Pawla is Polish for John Paul, the former pope of the Catholic church, and a bust of him was one of our first sights after entering--that and the bright floor-to-ceiling chandelier in the center of the lobby. Old World elegance was ubiquitous--red drapes, flowers, and crucifixes--one above the reception desk and  another above my bed. My window overlooked floodlights on a centuries-old brick cathedral.

The next morning we chose the hotel breakfast buffet, served in a light-filled room bordering a garden. Tables of juices, fruits, cured meats and cheeses, breads, yogurt, and cakes. Best of all coffee made to order. Each of the three mornings we ate here, we enjoyed the smiles of these young women.

Cathedral Island area, known as Ostrow Tumski (Tumski Bridge) borders the Odra River. After breakfast, a short walk from our hotel brought us to the bridge and a path bordering the riverbank. It was a beautiful cool sunny morning, and we decided to take a boat ride. Our captain used a bluetooth device to offer us the English narration of what we'd be seeing. Renate enjoyed wearing his hat for a few moments. Okay--and then I did too. We got a sense of the city, passing the university quarter along the southern bank, then the zoo, the botanical gardens.

We walked as lot that day, over the bridge, down a long street of store fronts, on our way to the Rynek or main square of the city, a staple of European cities with medieval roots. It was May 1, a holiday in Poland, and the square was already full of locals and tourists. There were buskers, and then these children who didn't need to wait for the start of any show.

The square is lined with restored merchants' houses, a town hall, and rows of cafes and restaurants. Stopping for coffee and moments to just sit and watch passersby was one of our favorite activites--surpassed only by dwarf-hunting. Yes. Since 2005, the city has been filled with 350 small dwarf figurines in a municipal-supported attempt to brighten up the streets. (There's a map of them, but Renate was particularly adept at spotting them without one.)

This symbol of the town is a tribute to a group of anti-establishment activists called the Orange Alternative, led by Waldemar "Major" Fydrych. They stenciled orange dwarf images on city walls--and in other areas of Poland--and staged street events satirizing the authoritarian regime. The so-called Dwarf Revolution of 1988 brought 10,000 people in the streets of Wroclaw in "joyous, surreal protest," according to my guidebook. Later, Fydrych was not so happy about the "kitsch" appropriation of the dwarf symbol for commercial gain. He took the city to court more than once--proving perhaps that leftists tend to lack a well-developed sense of humor. Here are a couple of my favorite dwarfs below.

Another impressive piece of art we saw is called the Anonymous Pedestrians by sculptor Jerzy Kalina. They are bronze figures of ordinary people, steadfastly going about their business. They're placed on an ordinary street corner, a reminder of the declaration of martial law in 1981. They cross the street despite the oppression; Poland always survives.

This city has also always survived--though it wasn't always in "Poland". A brief history from my guidebook: Once a 9th century Slav market town, the Ostrow Tumski (Cathedral Island) section became a religious site founded in 1000 AD by Boleslaw the Brave. German merchants were encouraged to move there and they did, naming the town Breslau. Then came the Bohemian kings in the 14th century, when Germans, Poles and Czechs lived in relative harmony. Many brick churches--still numerous here--were constructed during that time. In the 16th century, the Austrian Hapsburgs arrived, and so did the Thirty Years War, devastating the population. The area became progressively Germanized, falling to Prussia in the 18th century. Throughout the next two centuries Breslau was one of Prussia's then Germany's leading cities. And then came World War II in the 20th century. Toward the end of the war,  retreating Germans decided the city should be defended at all costs from the invading Red Army, resulting in destruction:  70 percent of the city lay in ruins, and three-quarters of the population fled west.

Enter the 21st century. Renate and I discovered a city that had been rebuilt, filled with old and new features, with a flourishing tourist economy. During our two-day, three-night visit, Renate and I focused on history and people watching. We appreciated the beauty of several of those medieval churches--as well as the historic White Stork Synagogue, which gets its name from the inn that once stood on that spot. It was the only synagogue in Wroclaw to escape destruction by the Nazis, and today it is once again a place of worship, a symbol of the resilience of Jewish life and culture in Poland.

As I often feel when I travel, I'd like to go back to this beautiful city. There's so much we didn't see--art museums, the National Forum of Music (no events during our visit), Hydropolis (a museum dedicated to water), and of course more dwarf statues. But if, as is likely, this is to be my only visit, I left satisfied, with sweet memories. I'll end with a photo of my face, gazing out the train window at the canola fields, blooming under the early spring sunshine. Next stop: Krakow.