It’s got everything I love – thousands of stories contained within the beautiful form of a mediaeval castle, scenically situated in the fork of the rivers Łyna and Symsarna. I’m talking about the Bishops’ Castle in Lidzbark Warmiński, the capital of what used to be the bishops’ dominion. It’s here that Nicolaus Copernicus served his uncle Łukasz Watzenrode as a doctor for a few years, and Bishop Ignacy Krasicki devoted himself to his passion – gardening. This historic bishops’ residence doesn’t cease to surprise, just like when, during the renovation of a tower, an almost 100-year-old letter in a bottle with a message to future generations was found. I think I know the Lidzbark Castle inside out, from the cellars to the rooftop… yet I keep rediscovering it each time I’m there.
Igor Belov: Alfred Szklarski’s book series about Tomek Wilmowski
I Come from Childhood says the title of a certain Russian film, and I think that everyone can say this about themselves. My love for Polish literature also comes from childhood: my first Polish book, one I read when I was 10, was Tomek on the Black Continent by a prominent author of literature for young adults, Alfred Szklarski. I was so fascinated by the adventures of the characters from this incredible book that I immediately went to a bookstore to find all the other novels from the series, released in the Soviet times in Russian translation by the Śląsk Publishing House from Katowice. From there, I also became fascinated by the mysterious word ‘Śląsk’ (there was no Wikipedia back then, so it wasn’t so easy to check what that was), spelled with ‘ą’, a letter unfamiliar to me. That was my first encounter with Polish culture, so I felt a bit like Christopher Columbus stepping into an unknown land (and I still feel like this in a way, continuing my adventure with Polish heritage).
Janusz R. Kowalczyk: The happiest barrack in the camp
I was born in the period of errors and distortions, which didn’t necessarily promise a great future, but I was also born in Kraków, the city of Kantor, Swinarski, Jarocki and Wajda, where artists frolicked in the Cellar under the Rams, where Turowicz’s Tygodnik Powszechny and Eile’s Przekrój were released, where there was no place for boredom. As a schoolboy, I was forced to participate in various propagandist assemblies on the one hand, and on the other – dragged to the equally dull church ceremonies by the catechists. Both sides had their activists, turning the absconders back with the same phrase: ‘Where are you rushing? To the cinema?’
Meanwhile, the cinemas offered a great selection of cinematographic masterpieces – I remember the genuine astonishment of tourists from Czechoslovakia, standing before the programme of a cinema studio which was screening the newest films by Kurosawa, Bergman, Buñuel, Fellini, Tarkovsky, Lindsay Anderson and Woody Allen: ‘And you’re complaining? We’ll be able to watch these films in our country only after many years, if at all!’
In the dark times of Gomułka, the TV screened Western films and series alongside Soviet and DDR propaganda. They even managed to afford the luxury of the unprecedented Teatr Telewizji (TV Theatre) and the incredible phenomenon that was Kabaret Starszych Panów (Elderly Gentlemen’s Cabaret). When it came to entertainment, the popular Filipinki paid ideological tribute with their Walla Twist, though their repertoire also included the timeless Ave Maria no Morro. There were also ‘song festivals’, diversely perceived, as well as jazz parties, which boasted huge attendances all over the Eastern bloc, plus the Warsaw Autumn festival with its galaxy of Western celebrities. It’s no wonder, then, that we gained the reputation of being the happiest barrack in the (communist) camp, Q.E.D.
Polina Belajeva (Russian section intern): "Warszawa" T. Love
I listened to this song throughout the first six months of my living in Warsaw, until one day I truly felt that line ‘I love this city, just as exhausted as me’ :)
Grażyna Soczewka: ‘The Strange Garden’ by Józef Mehoffer
Ever since I can remember, a reproduction of Józef Mehoffer’s The Strange Garden has been hanging in my childhood bedroom. I loved this painting because I was convinced that the happy child bathing in the sun was me. When I learned about the painting’s title at school, I felt uneasy. What was ‘strange’ about it? The dragonfly that’s too big? It was then that the word ‘strange’ attained a very positive meaning for me and became my key to exploring the world – ‘Nothing strange is alien to me.’
Filip Lech: The demon Boruta