From Krakow to Lithuania. Last day hitching with James through the beautiful polish countryside, and the expected reencounter with Tuchkus.

Once again it was time to go: three days in the same place was too much! So we woke up as the sun rose over the roofs of Krakow, filled the bag with our meager belongings and left. We walked for an hour in the cool of the morning until we got to the service station we chose on the road and out of town. Other 'Spanish breakfast', some questions to sour-faced employees and start the day!
The path we had chosen for the day was 600 kms. traversing Poland and its capital Warsaw to the border with Lithuania, and then another 100 kms. to Kaunas and the expected encounter with Tuchkus, with whom we had lived and traveled in Malaysia and Australia. In fact, with him I spent the most remarkable new year's eve of my life. We were both in Sydney (probably the best place on earth to see the new year's celebrations) and alone, almost without knowing anyone and without a dime... What to do? I had an unorthodox idea: make a big sign that between pretty drawings said something like: "New Year's Eve! Help us with a coin, a beer, a job or a nice girl!". And we began to ask everyone that we passed by, with a big smile and telling something of our history. People were surprised by our strange marketing strategy: someone finally asking honestly for money to get really drunk! And so, in just over an hour, we got like $50 ... sooo, bought a five-liter cask of the cheapest wine (goon!), and in a disinterested display of alcoholic generosity donated the rest to a charity (I must admit that we repented it when the wine ran out ...). Then we met Min Woo, a South Korean friend, and 15 minutes before midnight jumped the fences escaping the police to the place where more than half a million people were looking forward to the celebrations and beginning of the new year.
Poland is probably my favorite country for hitchhiking. The people are friendly and very used to hitchhiking. Until the early '90s this was an official mean of transport, organized by the National Tourism Board. Each hitchhiker had a ID card with assurance included, and the drivers could get points and prizes. It was therefore quite easy to find a lift to Warsaw. After some 15 minutes, Aneta offered to drive us the 300 kms. that separated us from the capital. She lived in England but had started a business in Krakow and was traveling with two guys who worked with her. She was very nice and good conversationalist, and we crossed half Poland hearing of her adventures, travels, family and future plans. 

We stopped at a small gas station after Warsaw, in good position to continue north, as many cars were going in our direction. He had just received a message from Tuchkus. Last minute plan change: instead of going to Kaunas, we should meet with him and his friends in an ecofestival in the middle of nowhere. As we had no money to call him and he is famous for its comic disorganization, almost four hours passed until we finally had a little idea of ​​where we had to go. At the gas station waited like 15 minutes until Michał took us another 30 kms. until another gas station after Wyszkow. 

 
Next to the narrow road, girls in tight clothes offered their services to tired drivers looking for imitations of love. We ate a small snack beside the road, and after another 20 minutes Florian took us towards Białystok. He was German but lived and worked as a lawyer in Poland, from where his wife was. He was a funny man (yes, there are good lawyers!), with crazy stories of restless youth and interesting points of view. He veered a few miles out of his way to leave us in good position, and we parted ways on the side of the pictoresque wooded road. 

We were there for a while, because again we had a long-distance sign with the majority of cars being locals. Finally, and after about an hour, some guys offered to take us through some typical small countryside towns to a gas station halfway towards Augustow. 

After another half an hour Marek and Gabriela gave us another short but helpful lift. We talked about life and this and that crossing green fields, and I had a chance to practice my 'Polengruski' (my poor Polish mixed with some English words and sounding like the Russian I learned some years ago). They left us at a gas station outside that city, only 50 kms. to the border with Lithuania. 

There, a short wait and another lovely couple offered to drive us 200 kms. until near Trakai, a few miles from the festival. We crossed the border as the night began to lay a cloak of dark velvet over the picturesque fields of the southernmost part of the Baltic country, talking about past memories, stories of a restless present and colourful future plans. It was late when we parted ways wishing each other a happy life, on the road intersection where we were supposed to be meeting Tuchki and friends. 

The night was dark, lit only by the dim silver light of stars, and with a dense fog covering the fields. The minutes passed, and we were not sure if we were in the right place because there was no road signs and the roads themselves did not resemble the map so much. We started walking without knowing where we were going, until some time after a car hit the brakes in front of us. Tuchkuuus! We hugged jumping in the middle of the road, and we told each other all our latest adventures as we went to the festival with their friends. But that's part of another story ...

De Cracovia a Lituania. Ultimo día a dedo con James cruzando la hermosa campiña polaca, y reencuentro con Tuchkus

Una vez más tiempo de partir: tres días quieto fue demasiado! Así que nos despertamos mientras el sol se alzaba sobre los techos de Cracovia, llenamos la maleta con nuestras escasas pertenencias y salimos. Caminamos por una hora en el fresco de la mañana hasta la estación de servicio que habíamos elegido sobre la carretera y ya fuera de la ciudad. ¡Otro 'desayuno español', algunas preguntas a empleados caracúlicos y a empezar la jornada!
El camino que habíamos elegido para el día nos llevaba unos 600 kms. atraversado Polonia y su capital Varsovia hasta la frontera con Lituania, y de ahí otros 100 kms. hasta Kaunas y el esperado reencuentro con Tuchkus, con quien habíamos vivido y viajado en Malasia y Australia. De hecho, con él pasé la noche vieja (año nuevo) más memorable de mi vida. Estábamos los dos en Sydney (quizás el mejor lugar del planeta para ver los festejos de año nuevo) y solos, sin conocer casi a nadie y sin un dólar... ¿Qué hacer? Se me ocurrió una idea poco ortodoxa: hacer un cartel grande que entre bonitos dibujos decía algo así como "Año Nuevo! Ayudanos con una moneda, una cerveza, un trabajo o una amiga bonita! Y empezamos a preguntarle a todo el que nos cruzábamos, con una gran sonrisa y contando algo de nuestra historia. La gente se mostró sorprendida por nuestra extraña estrategia de marketing: ¡finalmente alguien que pedía dinero expresa y honestamente para agarrarse un buen pedo! Y así, en poco más de una hora, hicimos algo de $50... Compramos una caja de cinco litros del vino más barato, y en muestra de desinteresada generosidad etílica terminamos donando todo el resto a una organización benéfica (debo reconocer que nos arrepentimos de ello cuando se acabó el vino...). De ahí nos encontramos con un amigo surcoreano, y a 15 minutos de medianoche saltamos las rejas escapándonos de la policía hasta el lugar donde más de medio millón de personas esperaban ansiosas los festejos y el comienzo del nuevo año.
Polonia es probablemente mi país favorito para hacer autoestop. La gente es amable y está muy acostumbrada a hacer dedo. Hasta comienzos de los '90 el 'dedo' fue un medio oficial de transporte, organizado por el Servicio Nacional de Turismo. Cada autoestopista tenía una tarjeta de identificación con aseguración incluida. Fue por lo tanto bastante fácil encontrar alguien hasta Varsovia. Después de algo de 15 minutos, Aneta se ofreció a llevarnos los 300 kms. que nos separaban de la capital. Ella vivía en Inglaterra pero había comenzado un negocio en Cracovia y viajaba con dos chicos que trabajaban con ella. Era muy simpática y buena conversadora, y cruzamos media Polonia mientras oíamos de sus aventuras, viajes, familia y planes de futuro.

Nos dejó en una pequeña gasolinera después de Varsovia, en buena posición para continuar camino ya que muchos coches irían en nuestra dirección. Poco antes habíamos recibido un mensaje de Tuchkus. Cambio de planes a último momento: en vez de Kaunas, debíamos encontrarnos con él y sus amigos en un ecofestival en el medio de la nada. Como no teníamos dinero para llamarlo y él es famoso por su cómica desorganización, estuvimos algo de cuatro horas hasta que finalmente tuvimos una pequeña idea de donde teníamos que ir. En la gasolinera estuvimos algo de 15 minutos hasta que Michał nos llevó unos 30 kms. hasta pasado Wyszków.

Pasamos en el camino al lado de numerosas chicas con escasa ropa que ofrecían sus servicios a los cansados conductores. Comimos un pequeño snack al costado de la pequeña carretera, y después de otros 20 minutos Florian nos llevó rumbo a Białystok. El era alemán pero vivía y trabajaba como abogado en Polonia, de donde procedía su esposa. Era un tipo divertido (si, hay abogados buenos!), con historias locas de juventud e interesantes puntos de vista. Se desvió unos cuantos kilómetros de su camino para dejarnos en buena posición, y nos despedimos en el costado de la pequeña carretera arbolada. 

Ahí estuvimos un buen rato, más bien porque nuevamente teníamos una señal de larga distancia en una carretera con mayoría de tráfico local. Después de algo de una hora, unos chicos se ofrecieron a llevarnos hasta una gasolinera a mitad de camino hacia Augustów, y después de una media hora Marek y Gabriela nos dejaron en una gasolinera fuera de esa ciudad, ya a 50 kms. de la frontera con Lituania. 

De ahí, una corta espera y una pareja se ofreció a llevarnos 200 kms. hasta cerca de Trakai, a pocos kilómetros de el bendito festival. Cruzamos la frontera mientras la noche comenzaba a tender su manto de oscuro terciopelo sobre los pintorescos campos del sur del país báltico, charlando sobre memorias de pasados, crónicas de inquietos presentes y planes de coloridos futuros. Ya era tarde cuando nos despedimos deseándonos una feliz vida en la intersección de carreteras donde Tuchki nos iría a buscar con unos amigos.

La noche se presentaba oscura, iluminada apenas por la tenue luz plateada de las estrellas, y con una densa niebla cubriendo los campos. Los minutos pasaban, y no sabíamos muy bien si estabamos en el lugar correcto porque no había señalización y las carreteras no se parecían mucho al mapa. Empezamos a caminar sin saber bien a donde, hasta que después de un buen rato un coche pegó un tremendo frenazo en frente nuestro. ¡Tuchkuuus! Nos abrazamos pegando saltos en el medio de la carretera, y contamos todas nuestras últimas aventuras mientras nos dirijíamos al festival con sus amigos. Pero eso es ya otra historia...

Krakow: a bit of history and breaking some myths. Also, Auschwitz and its horrors.

 I felt very happy to be back in Poland, with its grandmother food in big portions, cheap beer, beautiful women and nice people. We arrived with Dominik in Bielsko Biala as the sun fell on the horizon and decided to cheat and take a bus to spend the night in Krakow. I called Martha, but she was still in Warsaw, returning from a trip around Portugal and having some problems in their  car, so meeting that night was unlikely and finally got a room at the hostel of a friend of her. Arrived at the bus station and the first thing we did was eating a 'zapiekanka', traditional Polish snack consisting of a half open baguette with cheese, mushrooms and a little sauce. We were hungry after a long day and the zapiekanka tasted deliciously like one euro... From there, to the hostel, a well-deserved shower and recover energies.The next day we left our backpacks at the hostel and went to visit the city. We found a free walking tour, in the style of others 'free walking tours' of other European cities. These tours take you through some 3 hours around the city and work on donation bases or tips. They are usually very fun and a great option to get an idea of ​​the history and customs of the place, and meet other backpackers, as opposed to pay tours (which are full of retirees with hat, shorts, Hawaiian shirts, sandals and socks and photo camera) because they gather mostly young people short of cash and travelers hungry for experiences. Unfortunately the guide was not too funny, but also learned a lot about the city and the country, places and history. One legend attributes the founding of the city the mythical ruler Krakus, who built it above a cave occupied by a ravenous dragon. Many knights unsuccessfully attempted to oust the dragon fighting him until a shoemaker named Dratewka gave the dragon a sheep full of sulfur, which he ate, then drank the water from the Vistula River and exploded. The center of town (Stare Miasto) is beautiful, with examples of Renaissance architecture, Baroque and Gothic, and was declared a World Heritage Site by Unesco in 1978.

The city dates from about s. X, when it was starting to be considered an important trading center. Was almost completely destroyed during the Tatar invasions from the s.XIII and then rebuilted, flourishing with the Lithuanian-Polish union between s. XIV and XVI. The city survived intact the atrocities of World War II as it was considered by Nazis as a German city. The most representative buildings and sites are now the Castle and Cathedral on Wawel hill, numerous churches and museums scattered throughout the center, the huge market square (200 m side), the district of Kazimierz (the old town of the Jews of Poland) and Saint Mary's Cathedral.

  From the top of this, a trumpeter plays every hour a famous melody (Hejnal Mariacki) culminating in a broken note. It is a symbol of the city, and according to legend was the trumpeter who playing the same tune constantly alerted the entire population of the coming Tatar invasion and therefore saved the city. Unfortunately, a Tartar arrow pierced the throat of the hero, so the song is played unfinished in his honor. The song is played by the Polish national radio every day at noon, and would be a beautiful and poetic story ... if it wasn't a dirty lie. The legend was forged in the 1920s by an American tourist of the various legends he heard from the locals and later captured in a famous book, "The Trumpeter of Krakow," Newbery Award winner in 1929.
Wawel Hill is also beautiful, with its Royal Castle and Cathedral. The cathedral is considered the Polish national shrine, having been through its thousand-year history coronation site of numerous Polish monarchs. Sigismund Chapel, with its gold dome and his masterful Tuscan Renaissance style of the XVI century, is considered one of the brightest examples of architecture from Poland, and many kings and queens are buried beneath the frescoes and sculptures in its splendid interior.

n the afternoon we met with Marta, which whom I had done a nice trip around Europe a few years ago, and we amused ourselves chatting about this and that and trying traditional food. As she could not host us because his mother was in unexpected visit, we wrote a message in the last minute group on CouchSurfing. After 10 minutes received a call from Jacek offering a couch and a few minutes later an email from Egil for the same reason ... So we met Marta and Jacek later and walked through the city to the picturesque district of Kazimierz, the Jewish community center from the s.XIV to the Second World War, now a UNESCO World Heritage and artists' neighborhood, with the best bars in town.

We made a strategic stop in the Singer and Alchemia bars. The first is a beautiful wooden bar lit with candles, beautiful paintings and takes its name from the old sewing machines that serve as tables. We went early, but according to legend after eleven people begin to dance. There's no place, you say? Above the tables then, of course!. The Alchemia is another beautiful bar of those  which are not forgotten. With its decadent wooden interiors, furniture and paintings, and an eternal cloud of smoke highlighting its evocative atmosphere, all lit in the dim candlelight. The entrance to some rooms is done through a small closet, and it feels like time travel to the 20s. From there, cross the street to Plac Nowy (New Square), which serves the best zapiekankas Krakow. We walked to the center, drank a little more, and went to the home of Jacek, to watch some funny videos and talk about anything just before bedtime.

The next day I decided to try another free tour of the city, the Jewish Tour, around the points of the Hebrew history of the city. The guide was much better this time and it was very interesting to find some half-buried history under the sands of time. The Jewish community in Poland before the war was the largest in Europe (3.5 million, or 33% of total) and only in Krakow Jews numbered a quarter of the total population. We passed the old synagogue (the oldest in Poland and the city museum) and Remuh and Izaac synagogues (one active and the largest of Krakow respectively).We passed the place where they filmed one of the most important scenes of the movie "Schindler's List" and cross the river to the Ghetto. Before War II, Krakow's Jewish population was 68,000. With the advent of the Nazis deported most of the city, and 15,000 other 'able to work' were herded into the ghetto again in subhuman conditions. Finally, the ghetto was liquidated between June '42 and March '43. The population fit for work were sent to camps Belzec and Plaszow, the Auschwitz death camps or simply killed in the same streets. From there we went to the 'factory' of Schindler. Or the museum and the office where the inevitable souvenirs are sold. Schindler's figure is highly controversial, and almost everything you see in the film is fake. Rather, it was the American writer Thomas Keneally who invented the figure in the book "Schindler's Ark". The Jews were rather used as slave labor in their factories, and he was not the author of the famous list, but an officer of the SS. To get into the list they had to have some contact or family in the secret services and, according to testimony of survivors, pay the exorbitant sum of $ 5,000. Alas, another nice myth shattered by the cruel reality ...The next day was our last day in town and decided to go with James to Auschwitz.About 40 kms. Krakow was the largest extermination center in the history of Nazism, which is estimated to have been killed between 1.5 and 2.5 million people. The entrance to Auschwitz I grimly held the famous inscription "Arbecht Macht Frei" (Work makes you free).

The facts, details and crowded conditions of the place are too long and horrible to detail here, and gave me goosebumps. Just thinking of the levels that collective madness can achieve and that this had happened only 70 years ago. I had read "Man's Search for Meaning" by Viktor Frankl, fantastic book which details his experiences as a prisoner in concentration camps from the perspective of its psychiatric effects. One of my favorite books, and I was overwhelmed by a feeling of pain walking through the places described in it and thinking about all the life stories prematurely shattered by the brutal stupidity of men

Cracovia. Casco antiguo y castillo, Auschwitz y un poco de historia

Me sentía muy cntento de estar nuevamente en Polonia, con su comida de abuela y grandes porciones, cerveza barata, mujeres hermosas y gente simpática. Llegamos a Bielsko Biala cuando el sol caía sobre el horizonte, y decidimos hacer trampa y tomar un bus para pasar la noche en Cracovia. Llamamos a Marta, pero ella todavía estaba en Varsovia, volviendo de Portugal y con problemas en el coche en el que venían, así que no parecía probable que llegase esa misma noche. Al final, nos consiguió una habitación en el hostel de unos conocidos. Llegamos a la estación de buses y lo primero que hicimos fue comernos una 'zapiekanka', snack tradicional polaco que consiste de un baguette abierto a la mitad con queso, champignones y un poco de salsa. Teníamos hambre después de un largo día y la zapiekanka tenía un delicioso sabor a un euro... De ahí, al hostel, una merecida ducha y recuperar energías.
Al día siguiente dejamos las mochilas en el hostel y salimos para recorrer la ciudad. Encontramos un tour a pie gratuito en la ciudad, al estilo de los demás 'free walking tours' de otras ciudades europeas. Estos tours te llevan por algo de 3 horas alrededor de la ciudad y al final se deja una donación o propina. Son normalmente muy divertidos y una buenísima opción para tener una idea de la historia y costumbres del lugar, y conocer otros mochileros, ya que a diferencia de los tours de pago (que están apestados de jubilados con sombrero, shorts, camisas hawaianas, sandalias con medias y cámara de fotos) la mayoría de la gente son jóvenes viajeros cortos de efectivo y sedientos de experiencias. Lamentablemente el guía que nos tocó no era demasiado divertido, pero igualmente aprendimos bastante sobre la ciudad y el país, sus lugares e historia. Una leyenda atribuye la fundación de la ciudad al mítico gobernante Krakus, que lo construyó sobre una cueva ocupada por un voraz dragón. Muchos caballeros intentaron sin éxito desalojar al dragón luchando contra él, hasta que un zapatero llamado Dratewka le dio una oveja llena de azufre; el dragón se la comió, bebió el agua del río Vistula y estalló. El centro de la ciudad (stare miasto) es precioso, con ejemplos de arquitectura renacentista, barroca y gótica, y fue declarado patrimonio de la humanidad por la Unesco en 1978.

La ciudad data aproximadamente del s. X, al final del cual ya era considerada un importante centro de comercio. Fue casi totalmente destruida durante las invasiones tártaras entre el s. XIII y luego reconstruida, floreció con la unión lituano-polaca entre los s. XIV y XVI. La ciudad sobrevivió intacta las atrocidades de la II Guerra Mundial ya que era considerada por ls nazis como una ciudad alemana. Los edificios y lugares más representativos son hoy en día el Castillo y la Catedral en la colina Wawel, numerosas iglesias y museos diseminados por el centro, la gigantesca plaza del mercado (de 200 m. de lado), el distrito de Kazimierz (centro histórico de los judios de Polonia) y la Catedral de Santa María.

Desde la cima de ésta, un trompetista toca a cada hora una célebre melodía (hejnal mariacki) que culmina con una nota rota. Es uno de los símbolos de la ciudad, y segun la leyenda fue el trompetista quien tocando la misma melodía sin cesar alertó a toda la población de los tártaros que se avecinaban y pudo así salvar Cracovia de la invasión. Lamentablemente, una flecha tártara atravesó la garganta del héroe, por lo que la canción se toca así inconclusa en homenaje. El toque de trompeta se reproduce por la radio nacional polaca todos los mediodias, y sería una hermosa y poética historia... si no fuera mentira. La leyenda fue forjada en los años '20 por un turista americano de las diversas leyendas que escuchó entre la gente del lugar y que posteriormente plasmó en un célebre libro, "El Trompetista de Cracovia", ganador de un Premio Newbery en 1929.
La colina de Wawel es también hermosa, con su Castillo Real y Catedral. La catedral es considerada el santuario nacional polaco, habiendo sido a través de sus mil años de historia sede de coronación de numerosos monarcas polacos. La Capilla de Segismundo, con su cúpula de oro y su magistral estilo renacentista toscano del s. XVI, es considerada uno de los ejemplos arquitectónicos más brillantes de Polonia, y numerosos reyes y reinas se encuentran enterrados bajo los frescos y esculturas en su espléndido interior.

A la tarde nos encontramos con Marta, con quien habíamos hecho un bonito viaje por Europa hace ya unos años, y nos entretuvimos charlando de esto y aquello y probando comida tradicional. Como ella no podía alojarnos dado que su madre estaba de inesperada visita, escribimos un mensaje en el grupo de último minuto en CouchSurfing. A los 10 minutos recibimos una llamada de Jacek ofreciéndonos un lugar y unos minutos más tarde un mail de Egil por el mismo motivo... Así que nos encontramos con Jacek y Marta más tarde y fuimos caminando por la ciudad hasta el pintoresco barrio de Kasimierz, centro de la comunidad hebrea desde el s. XIV hasta la II Guerra Mundial, hoy Patrimonio Mundial de la UNESCO y barrio de artistas, con los mejores bares de la ciudad.

Hicimos una parada estratégica en el Singer Bar y el Alchemia. El primero es un hermoso bar en madera iluminado con velas, con bonitos cuadros y toma su nombre de las viejas máquinas de coser que sirven como mesas. Nos fuimos temprano, pero según cuenta la leyenda después de las once la gente comienza a bailar. ¿Que dónde, que no hay lugar? ¡Arriba de las mesas, como corresponde!. El Alchemia es otro bar precioso, de los que no se olvidan. Con sus decadentes interiores de madera, muebles y cuadros antiguos, y una sempiterna nube de humo resáltando su sugestiva atmósfera, todo iluminado a la tenue luz de las velas. La entrada a algunos cuartos se realiza a través de un pequeño armario, y se siente como viajar en el tiempo a los años '20. De ahí, cruzamos la calle hasta Plac Nowy (Plaza Nueva), donde se sirven las mejores zapiekankas de Cracovia. Caminamos hasta el centro, tomamos otro poco, y nos fuimos hasta la casa de Jacek, a mirar algunos videos divertidos y hablar de todo un poco antes de ir a dormir.

Al día siguiente decidí probar el otro tour gratuito de la ciudad, el Jewish Tour, alrededor de los puntos neurálgicos de la historia hebrea de la ciudad. El Guía fue mucho mejor esta vez, y fue muy interesante descubrir un poco de la historia semienterrada bajo las arenas del tiempo. La comunidad judía en Polonia era antes de la guerra la mayor de toda Europa (3,5 millones, o 33% del total), y sólo en Cracovia los judíos sumaban un cuarto de la población total. Pasamos por la vieja sinagoga (la más antigua de Polonia y museo de la ciudad) y las sinagogas de Remuh e Izaac (única activa y la más grande de Cracovia respectivamente). 
Pasamos por el lugar donde se filmó una de las escenas más importantes de la película "La lista de Schindler", y cruzamos el río hasta el Gueto. Antes de la II Guerra, la población judía en Cracovia era de 68.000. Con la llegada de los nazis la mayoría fue deportada de la ciudad, y los 15.000 restantes 'capaces para trabajar' fueron hacinados en el nuevo gueto en condiciones infrahumanas. Finalmente el Gueto fue liquidado entre junio del '42 y marzo del '43. La población apta para trabajar fue enviada a los campos de Belzec y Plaszow, los campos de exterminio en Auschwitz o simplemente muertas en las mismas calles. De ahí pasamos a la 'fábrica' de Schindler, o el museo y la oficina donde se venden los infaltables souvenirs. La figura de Schindler es altamente controvertida, y prácticamente nada de lo que se ve en la película es real. Más bien, fue el escritor norteamericano Thomas Keneally quien inventó su figura en el libro "El Arca de Schindler". Los judíos fueron más bien usados como mano de obra esclava en sus fábricas, y el no fué el autor de la famosa lista sino un oficial de la SS. Para entrar dicha lista había que tener algún contacto o familiar en los servicios secretos y, según testimonios de algunos supervivientes, pagar la exorbitante suma de 5.000 dólares. Lástima, otro bonito mito hecho pedazos por la cruel realidad...

El día siguiente era nuestro último día en la ciudad y decidimos ir con James a Auschwitz. A unos 40 kms. de Cracovia, fue el mayor centro de exterminio de la historia del nazismo, donde se calcula que fueron asesinados entre 1,5 y 2,5 millones de personas. La entrada al campo de Auschwitz I ostentaba la lúgubremente famosa inscripción "Arbecht Macht Frei" (el trabajo hace libre).

Los hechos, detalles y condiciones de hacinamiento del lugar son demasiado largos y atroces para detallar aquí, y me produjo un nudo en el corazón el sólo hecho de pensar en los niveles que puede alcanzar la locura colectiva y que ésto sólo había pasado hace cosa de 70 años. Yo había leído "El Hombre en Busca de Sentido" de Viktor Frankl, fantástico libro donde se detallan sus experiencias como prisionero en campos de concentración desde la perspectiva de sus efectos psiquiátricos. Es uno de mis libros favoritos, y me sentí embargado por una sensación de dolor caminando entre los lugares descritos en él y pensando en todas las historias de vida despedazadas prematuramente por la brutal estupidez humana.

From Vienna to Krakow. Chronicles of a hard hitchhiking day under the pouring rain...

We woke up early with the sun rising in the viennese skies. I took my famous Spanish breakfast (coffee and cigarettes), and we prepared the backpacks and said goodbye to Elisabeth. We took the Underground and a bus, and walked to the station we had chosen on the highway A4/E60. To get someone going in that direction was a bit difficult since everyone seemed to be a local or going pretty loaded, but we were in the right direction. After about an hour, Robert agreed to take us on his car to the outskirts of Bratislava. The plan was to spend a few hours exploring the city, but we were getting late and it was beginning to rain, so we decided to go directly to Krakow instead. Robert was a Slovak, living in Bratislava but working in Vienna (only 60 kms. away), the best possible combination given the cost of living in the Slovak capital and the high wages in Austria. 

 He left us in a good position at a gas station on the D1/E58. There we spent some time preparing signs and talking to people, until we met Santi and Nuria. They were from my beloved Catalonia and were on vacations on Slovakia, touring the country in a rental car, so the scene was funny when I saw the license plate and tried to approach them in my tarzanic Slovak. Then they said they were from Barcelona, ​​so I started to laugh and tried to start a  conversation in my poor Catalan, that did not practice for too long. We chatted a little of everything, as we crossed the green Slovak fields and watched the dark clouds and the thick raindrops crashing on the windshield. Santi was a professor of Philosophy and Nuria was also professor of biology and mathematics, perhaps the most hated subject for all students. They told us their experince as a teacher, their relationship with the kids and some life stories. I, for umpteenth time since this trip began, summarized my story, my travels and where I lived, my future plans and dreams of restless youth. It was also nice to speak Spanish with someone. In my experience, no matter how well you can master another language, you can never match the depth communication of feelings and emotions as in your mother tongue, so close to us and our memories from our early childhood. So the communication passed fluid the 200 kms. that separated us from Zilina, where we parted ways to continue north across the Czech Republic. They kindly diverted a few miles of their way to leave us in a small gas station, already on the E75. 

 There we decided to take a break and eat something given of prices in Slovakia, amongst the cheapest in Europe. I ate a huge and tasty sandwich baguette that heated in a microwave and half a litre of a really strong local brew, all for 2.50 €. And that considering that gas stations that are usually about 50% more expensive than any local shop... As the place was too small for both of us approaching people, we decided to split and I started to wave to passing cars at the side of the road. The rain fell steadily and soon I was soaked to the bone. Long time passed and no one stopped. First and obvious, drivers are often reluctant to take a couple of wet strangers in their car, but it was mostly a matter of wrong strategy: most of cars were driving short distances in between towns, and we were showing them signs indicating "Krakow / PL". "North Pole" could have give us the same result... However, after a few hours a very nice guy Slovak stopped, and as he had not much to do and the sight of two wet backpackers probably awoke his curiosity, he offered to drive us about 40 kms. to the border with the Czech Republic. He did not speak any human language that was not Slovak, but nonetheless we managed to communicate and give him directions. We crossed the border on foot and made about 200 meters to a parking lot for trucks. 

 It seemed like a good place to get a lift for long distances, but there were few people and everyone had to wait for departure time. In many European roads and on certain days, trucks have certain times when they can not circulate, and must also respect their own hours of rest. I decided to smoke a cigarette and look around at the small bar, also advertised as a nightclub. Inside, a beautiful Czech girl in the flower of her youth smiled mischievously and gave us curious looks behind eyes of a blue sky. I believe God was in a really good mood when he created women, but he should have been particularly inspired when he made the women of Eastern and Northern Europe, with their slender figures, hair made of gold, and eyes that smiled and invited to love. We decided both of us to keep hitching from the side of the road, James with a big piece of cardboard with the sign "PL" written on it. The afternoon began to decay in the pictoresque Czech countryside, with the sky colored in all shades of gray, but I wouldn't have cared to spend the night camping in the beautiful nature and talking with the mysterious girl... 

 Finally Dominik, a young Polish truck driver offered to take us to Bielsko Biala, already in Poland and only 100 kms. away from our final destination. We were talking about Poland, travel and women, while the dim light of twilight bathed the fields around us, and I was trying my 'Polengruski for the hearing impaired', a mixture of English and my poor Polish that rather resembled the Russian I learned years ago, all accompanied by gestures. We left right at the bus station, where we decided to cheat for once and take a bus to Krakow to spend the night in a decent bed and take a refreshing shower. In one day, we crossed four countries ...