Scottish Catholic Observer

You almost expect a visit to Gdansk to be in black and white. Anyone old enough will be imprinted with the 1980 TV images of the northern Polish city combusting, with the sparks from an industrial dispute spreading to the downfall of a despotic political system.

Splashed across the screens then, and splashed across the memories now, remain the images of honest men and women saying no to the repressions of the Marxist system. The Gdansk shipyard, or the Lenin Shipyard as it was then known, are icons to freedom.

Margaret Thatcher was settling into her first term of British premiership, and with a decade of battles against trade unions ahead of her, the year 1980 witnessed the political birth and growth of small stocky electrician, Lech Walesa. Storming onto the scene, Mr Walesa could have easily been dismissed as a troublemaker. As unions were coming under attack in parts of the west he was demanding the right to establish an independent workers body. Little did he know that his demands would eventually undermine the whole totalitarian system, which had suffocated the people since the coming of scientific socialism, post-Second World War.

The sense of sacred is almost tangible at the shipyard. A towering statue dominates the front of the gates, a statue which calls passers-by to relive the fears anticipated and the sacrifices experienced of those who, despite the then insurmountable opposition, consciously said no to the all devouring ideology of Communism.

Along the exterior fencing stands a wall, morosely engraved with the names of martyrs, men and women, who died opposing the new-speak that was the euphemistic workers republic of Poland. Row upon row, upon row, the names scream out from the grave and, as with Thomas More in A Man For All Seasons, the normality of the place suggests that these ordinary folk never saw themselves as being made of the stuff of martyrs.

From the dockyards a simple 100-metre walk will take the visitor to the underground museum, the Solidarity Museum, a shrine to the 1980 workers uprising and formation of the independent Solidarity trade union.

Also commemorated is the all to visible 1981 crack down by the government. Standing guard to the entrance is a smallish tank, but a tank it still is. It is an original state tool used by the supposed worker’s government against the actual workers. Taking the steps deep down under the road to reach the exhibition the lack of crowds are noticeable. Much has changed in Poland, and much has developed towards western European standards, but there still remains modesty in tourism, a modesty which, ironically, is an attraction.

In its emptiness this underground shrine to human decency allows the visitor to peruse at pleasure. But pleasure will not be a high-priority emotion, but rawness and righteousness. There is a sadness here, a sense of silence, a sense of solemnity.

But it is inside that counts. The old news footage is still recognisable today. The canteen, laid out table-by-table, with newspapers, drinks and cigarettes from that era. It is almost as if the factory bell has been called and the workers had just left five minutes previously. Were a worker to run back in, having forgotten his cigarettes, one would not be surprised, that is how realistic this reconstruction is.

The cars, the buses, the fashion, it’s all there and it’s all real. The visitor is dragged back to a time when it was unforeseeable to see the end of state socialism. You can taste the anxiety of the people, who, without any idea of how history would unravel, would light the flame which would spread to becoming the equivalent of a forest fire.

However, for the British or Irish guest the visit will not be completely foreign. For those old enough they will equate the strikes, the mass movements, even the street violence and overwhelming use of state forces. The riot shields, the prison cells, the Molotov cocktails, Then there are the seasons from the prisons and bedraggled but determined men in cells demanding their status, not as a common criminal, but as a political prisoner. This museum does not just catch an era of a country but it also catches an era of a generation.

Outside of the Solidarity Museum the old town of Gdansk, Stare Miasto, is a very pleasant experience. In many ways it fools the tired traveller into thinking they are in the quaint parts of the Netherlands.

There are the relaxed residents and the clean streets with a northern European look that is similar to the Dutch stereotype. For those wishing to indulge in some regular shopping centre pleasures there is the Madison shopping centre, a bastion of boutiques and beauty.

Outside of Gdansk old town, there is little pleasing to the eye. The industrial works are on an unimaginable scale. This city, of course, is a port and sits as a hub to the Baltic Sea, a gateway to the Scandinavia. But unless staying in the heart of the old quaint mystical part of the city, it is probably better to head north. Luckily for those weary, or even lazy, the trip north takes no time. Gdansk is in fact part of the ‘Tri-City.’ Attached are the cities of Sopot and Gydnia. The former is a sophisticated Blackpool, minus the drunks. Sopot is how one imagines the refined British seaside resorts before Spain ceased to be foreign.

However, recommendation goes to head a further 10 minutes to taste the latter, the city of Gydnia. It seems as if this place is specially designed for those travellers who struggle with directions. It is a small city and it is nearly impossible to get lost. In reality one road in, one road out.

For resting the bones the three star Hotel Neptun certainly seems to offer some of the best deals. Rooms are huge, service excellent, all at a very reasonable price. Previously a military hotel for some of the big wigs, these days it is civilians who get to enjoy the privileged surroundings. And it is easy to find, just drive through the American-like boulevard, reach the point where it forces you left down a one-way road and there it is on the immediate right. It sits across from the Hotel Blick which seemed to cater in being more expensive and less friendly.

However, much that the history lover, the politics lover and the geography lover will relish Gdansk, and her two sisters, it is impossible to appreciate without knowledge of the underlying river of life which is Polish Catholicism.

The theme for any trip to Poland, and any understanding of the Poles, is faith and it is the Faith. It is almost as if Catholicism is the material used to hold together the buildings and the people.

The Papal presence of John Paul and his legacy still remains strong. The city maybe haunted from the ghosts of the past, including those who are still alive such as Lech Walesa. But it is less of ghosts and more of spirit, human spirit, maybe even the Holy Spirit.

This is where the Polish Pope, Lech Walesa and freedom converged and became reality. It was from here that Mr Walesa, who would go on to become the President of Poland, signed the 1980 agreement with a photo of the Pope adorned on his pen. Comical now, but revolutionary then. And it was here, September 1980, Solidarity the trade union was officially born, to which John Paul II invited a delegation to visit him at the Vatican. A concealed endorsement this was not.

So as far as travel goes, the Tri-City is worth a visit. The future for this city looks bright, and at present, this time of year the Christmas trees are picturesque in colour—for long gone are the days Gdansk languishes in black-and-white.